


Invictus

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hayffie, I won't tag all characters but they're pretty much all there, I'm still useless at tagging, canon prostitution of victors, canon universe AU, mention and talk about said prostitution, the one in which Haymitch's family is still alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 116
Words: 355,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So then, before I can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?" Haymitch continued, almost detached. "Either I play nice like all the other victors or he will kill my family. I could either become his puppet – greatest punishment he could give me, according to him – or I could become the example.” </p><p>AU in which Haymitch's family lives. Hayffie</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an canon universe AU that deals with a specific “What if”. What if President Snow didn’t have Haymitch’s family killed after his Games? I’m very excited about this story and I hope you will like it too. For now the rating is mature but I might increase it later on. However, this is an official warning : the canonical prostitution of victors will play a role in this story. I don’t plan on writing anything graphic on that account but it will be mentioned, talked about and dealt with so if you think that it can trigger something, be careful. 
> 
> The title comes from the poem from William Ernest Henley, it is latin for “unconquered”. Check out the poem if you don’t know it, it’s an awesome and inspiring piece. 
> 
> Although it deals with some other themes, this is obviously a hayffie story. 
> 
> Thanks to Akachankami for the beta-reading and Allonsysilvertongue for the pep talks. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story. Please do drop me a line to tell me what you think of it.

Mayor Undersee was a charming man, Effie mused as she trudged alongside him on the slope to the Victors’ Village, but he really should see to the state of the roads in his District. Her shoes were covered in dust from the earthy path and she didn’t think she would manage to salvage them before the Reaping was due to start.

Her very first Reaping as an escort…

Mayor Undersee seemed a bit taken aback by the bright smile on her face but she couldn’t help it. She was a bundle of nerves, excitement and dread – the escort from District Six, Livia, had told her so many anecdotes about disastrous performances from new escorts at Reapings that Effie was almost sure she would ruin it. She had worked _so_ hard to get there, it would be a shame to get fired because she would stammer on a word.

But Effie Trinket never stammered, she told herself, nodding absent-mindedly at whatever the mayor was saying. He was appraising her on a brand new mining machinery and she wasn’t following a lot of that conversation.

“Here we are.” the man sighed with relief when they finally reached the iron archway to the Victors’ Village. Effie glanced around curiously, disappointed with what she saw. She was expecting something a little more… _festive_. The village looked like a graveyard. She waited for the mayor to lead her to her destination but he shuffled on his feet, obviously ill-at-ease. “Would you mind it terribly if I left you here? My wife’s sister was in the Quell with Haymitch, you see, and…”

“Oh, of course.” she was quick to offer. She could imagine how awkward such a meeting would have been. Tried as she might, she couldn’t remember who his wife’s sister might have been. The Quell had twice as many tributes and it had taken place quite a few years ago, apart from her new mentor, she couldn’t be expected to remember the name of his adversaries. “It’s no trouble at all.”

The mayor seemed relieved and pleased by her reaction. He relaxed and smiled at her – she realized, a bit taken aback, that all his smiles until then had been strained.

“I think you will do well in Twelve, Miss Trinket.” he told her.

“I do hope so.” she grinned. “Now which house would it be?”

He instructed her to follow the path and assured her she would know the house at first glance so she did just that, looking around curiously. All the houses were identical but they were all empty and sad to look at. She couldn’t imagine living there at all. Yet she supposed it was better than what she had glimpsed of the rest of the District. She had known beforehand she would be faced with poverty but she hadn’t been quite ready for the _misery_.

The house was, indeed, unmistakable.

It was the only one that looked _homey_. The garden was tended to, there were potted plants on the windows and a nice vegetable garden on the side of the house. Contrary to the other houses, the windows were clean, the chimney was smoking and she could hear honking coming from behind the house, perhaps poultries of some kind.

It calmed her nerves for some reason. She smoothed her dress, checked her reflection in her hand mirror, made sure her light blue gloves weren’t crumpled around the wrists and strutted to the front door with confidence. She knocked three times and waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long.

The door opened on a woman with grey hair and grey eyes whose head barely reached Effie’s chin – it was the heels but she estimated that without them they would be roughly the same height. She was dressed in a light pink blouse and a practical blue skirt, her hair was tied in a bun and there was a no-nonsense air about her that Effie liked immediately. Her face was marred with lines around the eyes and the mouth that seemed to indicate she smiled often even though she wasn’t doing much of that at the moment.

“Mrs Abernathy.” Effie surmised with a smile of her own. The assumption was a fair one, the woman was often glimpsed on TV on Reaping day and now and then during the year when a camera crew came to Twelve for whatever reason. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She offered her hand and, for a second, she was afraid she had committed a mistake. The woman was doing her own visual inspection, her eyes lingering on her cleavage – the dress she was wearing was a gift from a stylist she used to model for and even though it was quite fashionable and classy, it was also showing off most of her assets – before studying her face. Finally, when Effie’s smile was starting to feel strained and she was thinking about dropping her hand, the woman reached for it with a soft smile.

“You have better manners than the last escort.” the woman offered, stepping aside. “Do come in. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

Having better manners than the last escort wasn’t exactly a feat. She was painfully well acquainted with Viola Summercket’s manners and they were horrid. She truly felt for the District Eleven’s team on which she had been appointed.

The fault couldn’t have been all Viola’s though. Twelve had a reputation regarding escorts. It had become a bit of a joke, really. They barely lasted a year before either quitting, requesting a transfer or displaying their sordid affair with the senior victor all over the newspapers.

“Effie Trinket.” she introduced herself, following the woman along a nicely decorated corridor. It was nothing fancy, certainly nothing like what she was used to, but it was clean and obviously well cared-for.

“Sounds like fate.” a masculine voice commented.

Mrs Abernathy didn’t pause on the kitchen’s threshold like Effie did, she made a beeline for the oven to check on something that was obviously burning. Effie barely heard the woman rebuking someone over it, she was too busy staring at the man who had appeared behind her, clearly coming from the living-room she could glimpse over his shoulder, on the other side of the hall.

“And why would that be?” she asked curiously, suddenly glad she had opted for the gloves that morning. Her hands felt clammy under the fabric. He looked better in real life than he did on television.

Broad chest, tanned skin, grey eyes… She licked her lips and forced herself not to stare. They were precisely the same age and she had rooted for him like a mad woman when he had been Reaped. She still had a poster somewhere in her old room at her parents’ house.

Hayden Abernathy, victor of the fifty-fifth edition of the Hunger Games, winked at her and she absolutely _didn’t_ want to swoon.

“Because my brother has the nasty habit of collecting women like trinkets.” he whispered, brushing past her to enter the kitchen. She followed, noticing a bit too late that a domestic over the burned pastries Mrs Abernathy’s other son had failed to take out of the oven in time was taking place.

Effie knew Haymitch Abernathy, of course. It was hard not to. Not only was he the only Quarter Quell victor alive, he was also very much known to everyone in the _in_ circles of the Capitol elite. He was what was commonly called a playboy who, as Hayden had so aptly put it, collected affairs like trinkets, according to the press and his own interviews on TV. From what she had gathered from her various friends, acquaintances and the gossip mill, he was a very smart man, with a weakness for liquor, who could be quite charming when he wanted something. He was also very happy to leave the mentoring work to his brother while he ran around the Capitol with his latest conquest.

Livia had warned her not to expect any kind of help coming from him. She had also warned her not to fall for his act. According to her friend, Haymitch wasn’t a nice man behind closed doors.

No warnings were required though. She highly doubted she would ever be attracted to the man with a disheveled appearance, swaying lightly on his feet as the wine splashed over the rim of his glass, not only tainting the sleeve of his shirt but leaving sticky puddles on the kitchen’s floor. It only made his mother more annoyed but he didn’t even seem to notice. He was looking right through her.

“We have company.” Hayden reminded them all cheerfully, flopping on a chair. “Can we all behave like a happy family for once?”

Effie was taken aback. From all accounts and public appearances, the Abernathy family _was_ a happy one. After all, at the time of their victory, it was unprecedented that two brothers would win the Games in a five years span, never mind the fact that those two brothers came from Twelve - of course that record had since been obliterated by Gloss and Cashmere. In every interview Mrs Abernathy always said she was delighted and proud, Hayden and Haymitch were thick as thieves and the two victors were Twelve’s most treasured assets.

Obviously, it was a bit of an overestimation.

Haymitch finally glanced at Effie. It was all it was : a mere glance. His eyes darted from her shoes to her pale blue wig and he downed his glass, throwing his head back not to miss a drop.

“Honestly, Haymitch.” Mrs Abernathy huffed. “Can I offer you something to drink, dear?”

“ _Dear_.” Haymitch snorted, reaching for the wine bottle in the middle of the table.

Everything happened so quickly Effie was almost confused but Hayden’s hand shot out and grabbed Haymitch’s wrist. The two brothers stared at each other for a few seconds, having a silent conversation of some kind. Haymitch retreated with a sneer.

“Wouldn’t want to embarrass the District.” he muttered with a slight bow in Hayden’s direction. “Or _you_.”

The tension was thick and Effie felt the need to clear her throat which was a bad idea because every eyes turned to her. Hastily forcing a smile on her face, she extended her hand to Haymitch, avoiding the puddle of wine. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I am Effie Trinket and I am…”  

“Yeah, sweetheart, I know a new escort when I see one.” he replied. He clasped her hand but not before she glimpsed a tinge of reluctance flashing in his eyes. She wondered what she had done to displease him so soon. Perhaps the rumors were true and he was simply disappointed because she wasn’t his type.

She winced when she saw the dark spot on her glove but she was tactful enough not to mention it. She doubted it was salvageable and Mrs Abernathy looked embarrassed enough already without Effie asking if she had anything to remove wine stains.

“You’re early.” Haymitch pointed out, a bit accusingly.

“Actually, not so much.” she replied, fighting to keep the smile on her face.

“Haymitch, you weren’t raised by wolves.” Mrs Abernathy gritted her teeth. “Show some manners.”

“Oh, I could show her some things alright…” he smirked. “Wouldn’t you like that, sweetheart?”

“Haymitch!” his mother exclaimed in outrage.

Hayden simply rolled his eyes.

Effie’s cheeks burned crimson and she was grateful for the heavy make-up that would have at least, she hoped, hidden some of her blush. She wondered what was the usual reaction to that kind of comment. Giggles? Shy smile? He certainly didn’t seem to expect her glaring.

“I will thank you to keep your unprofessional remarks to yourself so we can all work as efficiently and agreeably as possible together.” she said, her tone flat. Then she clapped her hands with a cheerful face. “Now, I do think both of you should hurry and change before the Reaping.”

The brothers exchanged a quick look. Haymitch’s face was openly mocking but Hayden was tactful enough to keep his smile out of his voice. “That’s what we’re wearing.”

“Oh… I see.” she winced. _Way to put her foot in her mouth, Euphemia_ , she rebuked herself in her mind. She made a mental note to purchase more appropriate clothing for their time in the Capitol and she would need to bring some with her for the next Reaping – _if_ she made it that far. As for now… She supposed Hayden’s clothes were acceptable, certainly not fashionable but the country boy style was good on him and the blue shirt and grey pants were flattering. Now Haymitch… She eyed him critically. “ _You_ need to at least change your shirt.”

“Why?” he said defensively. “It’s clean.”

“It _was_ clean before you put wine on it.” she argued, pointing to the dark stain on the wrist.

“Nobody will know.” He rolled his eyes and folded his arms petulantly.

“ _I_ will know. Please go and change.” she insisted.

“If you want to undress me so much, sweetheart, all you have to do is ask.” he replied, completely ignoring his mother’s new strings of reproaches and excuses.

It suited Effie just fine, she ignored them too.

“I know I am an attractive person, Mr Abernathy, but I will thank you to stop hitting on me. I assure you it is quite hopeless.” she snapped without blinking. “Not to mention your assumption that anyone of the female sex would want to throw themselves at your feet is troubling.”

Hayden’s laughter boomed in the kitchen, carefree and unrestrained. “Oh, _I love you_. Haymitch, stay away from this one, we’re keeping her.”

Haymitch glanced at his brother, then at Effie and sighed as if she was being insufferable. “You’re going to be a pain, aren’t you?”

“I have an inkling I could say the same about you.” she retorted.

She stood her ground, ready to match him wit for wit until the next day if that was what it would take to get him in line. His smirk was slow and there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. His gaze was intense and she shuffled slightly on her feet, she could feel the tension shifting and…

“Take this one.” Mrs Abernathy handed another shirt to his son. It was a light grey and not at all what Effie would have chosen but she figured if he accepted to change clothes it would be a small victory in itself. Of course, she wasn’t expecting him to take off his shirt right then in the kitchen but there was something of a challenge in his eyes when he did, so she simply lifted an eyebrow and forced her face to remain unimpressed.

There was a huge scar on the left side of his abdomen and a smaller one on his shoulder. She tried not to stare but it was difficult not to.

“My brother isn’t shy.” Hayden told her, getting on his feet. He sounded partly amused and partly bitter. “You should get used to it. And we should get going.”

A glance at the clock was enough to prove him right and send Effie into a frenzy.

“Oh, dear, we will be late!” she exclaimed.

“What a shame.” Haymitch grumbled, avoiding the towel his mother swapped his way with an agility that spoke of experience.

“Behave.” Mrs Abernathy growled but it was more fond than aggravated.

Effie had no wish to be rude but she urged them all on the path to the Square, too focused on the upcoming ceremony to do much more than nod and hum at Hayden’s attempts at conversation. Mrs Abernathy left them at the edge of the Square and they walked up the stage under the heavy stares of the people gathered there.

Effie smiled hard, beaming at finally being under the spotlights. Hayden helped her up the narrow stairs to the stage and she couldn’t help but clench his hand instinctively once she was up there, conscious of all the eyes and the camera riveted on her.

“What if I forget the speech?” she whispered hurriedly, truly nervous now. She wasn’t a stranger to stage fright though and she just _knew_ everything would be perfectly alright once she started speaking but it was the long minutes before actually going live that were the worst.

“You won’t.” Hayden offered reassuringly, squeezing her hand once before letting go. “Break a leg.”

“Try not to do that literally.” Haymitch taunted. “I’ve been told I’m ridiculous enough for the whole team.”

She ignored him, smiled at Hayden and walked all the way to the front of the stage.

“Welcome to the sixty-fifth Hunger Games!”


	2. Chapter 2

Effie took a look at the two tributes staring at each other warily in the living-room car and tried very hard to quench the uneasiness that had been slowly creeping up on her ever since she had drawn their names.

The girl was named Stella, she was fourteen, and the boy was named Sage and he was sixteen. They were both dark-haired with grey eyes and could have passed for brother and sister. The tears hadn't dried on the girl's cheeks yet.

"Where is your brother, Mr Abernathy?" she asked Hayden who was studying the tributes in silence. "Shouldn't he be here?"

"Call me Hayden or it will get confusing very quickly." the victor said, barely sparing her a glance. "And never mind Haymitch. I handle the mentoring."

"This isn't right." she frowned. "If two victors are available then they are supposed to mentor a tribute each."

The children were looking at her and at Hayden in turn, waiting for them to come to an agreement with such passivity she wanted to shake them. Where was the excitement? The thirst for glory?

"This is how we work in Twelve." Hayden replied more firmly. "If you expect Haymitch to lift a finger to help, you will be disappointed. The only thing he's willing to lift during Games time is a glass of whiskey."

She blinked. Haymitch did have something of a bad boy reputation – but a _nice_ bad boy reputation, the kind that was endearing – yet the portrait Hayden was depicting was so far from his public image that she put it on a spite between them rather than on an actual laziness on the eldest's part.

"Even so. This isn't right." Effie argued. "He should at least introduce himself to the tributes."

Hayden looked at her with tangible irritation but it was quickly suppressed by a shrug. "He's in the bar car probably. See for yourself but then I need to talk to you about this year's stylists."

She nodded once and then headed out, relieved to leave the gloomy children behind.

"So…" she heard Hayden say when she was closing the door. "Do you want to be mentored together or separately?"

She wasn't completely familiar with the train yet, it took her a few minutes to locate the bar car. Haymitch was there, indeed, perched on a stool, a bottle of whiskey in front of him and a half-full glass in his hand.

"Here comes the wicked witch." he chuckled in his drink when he saw her coming in. "What's your poison, Princess?"

Her eyes glided over the Avox tending the bar. "I don't drink when I'm working."

She didn't even try to hide the reproach in her voice. It merely made him smirk harder.

"Fun one, aren't you?" He shrugged. "Suit yourself, we need to talk business anyway." He pushed the closest stool to him with his foot. "Sit." Then he looked at the Avox, his tone softening. "Go take a walk, please."

She wondered what it meant about him that he would bark orders at her but be polite with a criminal.

She waited until the Avox had left before sitting on the offered stool not without much difficulties. Her dress wasn't made for that kind of exercise and when she looked up, after checking it wasn't riding too high on her thighs, it was too find him staring without any shame at her cleavage.

"Mr Abernathy." she began, intending to make a nice speech about how they had obviously started on the wrong foot and needed to take a fresh start.

"Haymitch." he cut her off.

"Haymitch." She relaxed a little, perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult after all. "I do not think you should leave all the work to your brother. We will need all the help we can get if we want to win this year. So if you would walk back to the living-room car with me to meet our tributes I would be very grateful."

He blinked at her and snorted in obvious amusement, sipping from his glass slowly. "You're funny, Ellie."

"Effie." she corrected, through clenched teeth.

"Whatever, sweetheart." he smirked.

"You are very rude." she observed.

"Sorry." he shrugged but he so obviously didn't mean it that it only annoyed her further.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, studying the bottle dubiously. It was still quite full but who knew how much he had to drink before the Reaping or how much it would take to inebriate him?

"Unfortunately not yet." he sighed. "There's a fine line between drunk and wasted. I'm usually tap dancing on it. Your job is to keep me on the right side of it."

"My job is to see to the tributes and help you with sponsors and general organization." she objected.

"That's part of it, yeah." he agreed. He turned the glass in his hand once, making the whiskey twirl. When he spoke next, he kept his eyes on the liquor. "We need to talk about the special appointments."

"What special appointments?" she frowned, mentally checking the crash course she had been given on public relations and Livia's patient explanations about the job. She was fairly certain there had been no mention of special _anything_.

"Don't play the prude." he snapped. "I'm not going to dance around the subject to help your guilty conscience." His eyes darted up quickly and back at her, something that almost looked like fright flashing on his face. He placed the glass down and pushed it away from him. "I didn't mean..." He licked his lips nervously and grabbed the glass back but he didn't drink, he simply fumbled with it as if he needed something to keep busy. "Sweetheart, President Snow and I have a deal and I need to make sure he keeps his end of the bargain so you have to tell me if anyone orders a special appointment with Hayden. I will make it worth it to you. Money, sex, whatever you want. I will pay the price."

She stared at him, completely confused. "You are not making any sense at all. Are you sure you aren't drunk?"

The way he looked at her then sent chills down her spine. There was surprise and pity in his grey eyes. "You don't even know what I'm talking about… This job is going to break you."

He snorted as if it was a good joke and she was suddenly very ill-at-ease, too conscious she was alone with a man who was obviously not totally sober – if not totally insane. "I should go check on the children."

She climbed off the stool but he was quicker than her. He stood up and she found herself trapped between the bar, the stool and his body. With the heels, they were almost nose to nose but he was still bigger than her and she was careful not to make eye contact, waiting for him to step aside. When he raised his hand, she flinched. She didn't know what she was expecting… No one from the Districts would dare assault a Capitol so it was clear he would never use violence but she couldn't quite shake Livia's voice out of her head : _Don't be fooled. He isn't quite as nice behind closed doors._

His fingers brushed her jaw and his thumb rested on her chin. When he nudged her head slightly to make her look at him, it was gentle, but there was something threatening about it nonetheless.

"You don't tell Hayden about the appointments. Let him think I'm a pig, you get it?" he requested.

The smell of whiskey was heavy on his breath and she winced in disgust. "Somehow, I don't imagine it will be really difficult."

He chuckled but there was no amusement behind it. "And you tell me if anyone asks for a special appointment with Hayden. If anyone gives you a grey envelope for him, you give it to me. _Never_ let him know about that. That's our secret, sweetheart."

The prospect of having secrets with this man wasn't an endearing one yet she nodded once, desperate to get away from there.

She would ask Livia about those special appointments he was talking about.

"Good. Now for your payment…" He smiled at her. It was the familiar smile she was used to seeing on TV. The charming one. "What do you want? Money or…"

His hand left her chin, ran all the way down her neck and stopped at her shoulder. When his fingers retraced her collarbone she flushed a bright red and whacked his hand away.

"You are a pervert." she decided. "Step aside, please."

He laughed but did as she bade. She hurried to the door, fearing he would change his mind.

"You know where to find me when you figure it out." he shouted after her. "Don't tell Hayden."

 _Don't tell Hayden_.

She should do _just_ that, she fumed silently. And then she should tell the Head Gamemaker and make sure he would be banned from further Games. His behavior was inappropriate.

And what was he going on about with his deal with President Snow? She highly doubted President Snow had nothing better to do than make deals with victors as popular and charming as they could sometimes be.

Hayden grinned at her with an 'I told you so' look when she walked back in the living-room car, flustered and agitated. She suggested they all move on to the dinner car.

Haymitch didn't show up at dinner nor did he make an appearance afterwards when they were watching the Reapings recap. The tributes didn't linger more than necessary.

Effie was absolutely confused by their attitude. You would think they were desperate at having been Reaped instead of being enthusiastic at the unique opportunity.

"Why do they look so gloom?" she asked Hayden once they were alone. She was puzzled by it all. She had expected her first day as an escort to be a _big, big, big_ day but it was all anticlimactic. Twelve was bleak, her victors were far from what she had seen on TV and the tributes acted as if they had never seen a plate full of food before. The way they had jumped on their meal had almost made her sick. She vowed to squeeze proper behavior lessons somewhere in the schedule.

"Because they're going to die?" Hayden offered without the slightest trace of amusement. The ironic expression quickly left his face though. He stood up and walked to the liquor cart in the corner, leaving Effie to gape at him.

"You cannot think like that!" she protested at last. "A positive attitude…"

"Effie, you look like a good person but you are very new to this so believe me when I say I am sorry but you need to toughen up…" he interrupted her. "Is there a chance they will win? Yes. With a lot of luck and if we manage to get sponsors but realistically? The odds are never in our favor. We're the poorest District, our kids are always starved and small. When they come from the Seam like those two, the dice is already cast. They know it, I know it and you need to know it too so we can all merrily pretend it's not the case."

She shook her head. "That is a very depressing way to look at the situation. You and your brother won."

" _Haymitch_ won." Hayden shrugged, handing her a glass of whiskey. "I was lucky."

"That is patently untrue." she argued. "I happened to remember it very well. You were very clever."

She politely took a sip of the liquor she was handed but quickly placed it on the coffee table. She had no taste for whiskey.

Hayden didn't seem to notice, he walked to the window and leaned against the pane to watch the landscape rushing past.

"I hid." he recalled. "I never even killed anyone. I hid until it was over."

Hayden wasn't a particularly popular victor, she realized, because he had never made for a good show. That much was true. He had hidden in a cave for days, barely stepping out to check his snares and collect more water. She remembered a lot of people had asked at the time why the Gamemakers didn't do something to coax him out of his hiding place when they were so vicious with the other tributes.

"You won. Isn't that the important thing?" she frowned. "You were very smart in your hiding if I recall correctly."

His lips stretched into a smile. "I did what my brother said."

"And what was it?" she asked, doubting any pearl of wisdom could ever come out of Haymitch Abernathy's mouth.

"Stay alive." he snorted, taking a sip of his glass and cringing immediately after. "This thing is horrible. I don't know how he can stand it."

He placed the glass back on the liquor cart and flopped on one of the chairs again. His messy brown hair fell in his eyes and she had to suppress the urge to brush them away.

"You look up to him a lot." she ventured carefully.

"I used to." he shrugged. "He was a good guy before. The arena changed him. Now all he thinks about are girls and booze. Just wait until you meet Chaff…" He rolled his eyes. "He got Haymitch into the bottle, you know. Mom hates him."

Chaff. Eleven's victor, won the forty-fifth Hunger Games if she remembered right, and was such a fixed figure of the Games that he went on mentoring even though there were younger victors to take his place. He was a regular face on Capitol TV.

"I like you better than our last escort." Hayden offered suddenly with a genuine smile. "I hope you won't let my brother scare you off, Effie. I think we could work well together."

She smiled back, pleased to hear that. "I don't plan on going anywhere for the foreseeable future."

And she certainly didn't plan on letting Haymitch Abernathy scare her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick precision : a lot of you asked about Haymitch's girl. I didn't forget about her, you will learn about her eventually ;)
> 
> I'm thrilled with the reply this story got (well at least on ff.net) ! I hope you liked this chapter! Please drop me a line to tell me your thoughts! I'm very invested in this story ^^


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, that was a disaster.” Hayden commented, matter-of-factly as they headed back to the Training Center, following the long procession of mentors and escorts.

The Opening Ceremony could have gone better, she would admit that wholeheartedly.

“I will find new stylists.” she offered. “I can call in a few favors…”

She didn’t know how anyone could have thought it a good idea to send those children out there naked except for a thick coat of coal powder and pieces of gunny sacks in the right places to keep it decent. The girl had been crying all the way through and the boy had kept his hands around his crotch protectively.

Not that it mattered much, anyhow. The crowd had clearly chosen its favorite.

District Four’s boy looked radiant. He was dressed like a sea-god and he certainly looked the part.

“I will find Haymitch and make sure he isn’t already drinking.” he said. “Take the kids to the penthouse, alright?”

“Actually, I don’t mind looking for Haymitch if that’s alright with you.” she offered. “I need to swing by the escorts’ lounge anyway.”

“If you’re sure…” he shrugged. She nodded and he hurried away in the direction of Twelve’s tributes. She couldn’t blame him.

Haymitch had graced them with his presence at breakfast but hadn’t even spared a word for the tributes or either of them. He had disappeared right after the train had reached the Capitol, obviously in a mood.

The little paved courtyard was crowded with escorts, mentors, stylists and horses but she managed to find Livia easily enough.

The older escort greeted her with a smile. “You did a wonderful job at the Reaping, Effie darling. I told you there was no reason to be nervous.”

“Thank you.” Effie offered, trying hard not to stare at District Six’s mentors. They were heavily leaning against the horses, obviously under some kind of narcotic substance. “I have a question. It’s probably silly but… Would you know, by any chance, what special appointments are?”

The two victors looked at each other. It was clear they recognized the term even through their high. They shuffled away from her as if she had the plague.

Livia bristled slightly and looked around before lowering her voice. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself with that, darling. Suffice to say, you might be asked to pass along a grey envelope to one of your victors sometimes. It is all hush-hush, you see.”

And there was the grey envelope again… So Haymitch wasn’t insane after all.

“But what _kind_ of appointment is it?” she insisted. And why was Haymitch so adamant Hayden didn’t get them? It must have been important if he was ready to offer money and sex to bribe her – and she internally rolled her eyes at his arrogance; he must have thought really highly of himself to think anyone would consider sleeping with him a payment of any kind.

Livia’s lips pursed in an annoyed line. “You’re not supposed to ask, Effie. It’s _better_ if you don’t. Let it rest.”

District Six’s escort was uncomfortable and Effie knew there would be no result in pressing the point. She would find out anyway. There were a lot of ways to dig secrets out.

She excused herself and she got the feeling Livia was only too happy to see her go. She wandered around for a while, unsuccessfully trying to locate Haymitch.

She finally found him in the mentor lounge, slumped on a couch next to Chaff, a glass in his hand. He didn’t look drunk. She counted that as a victory.

“Ah, my babysitter is here.” he snorted as soon as he saw her. “Nice job with the stylists, sweetheart. Where did you find them?”

“ _Now_ you take an interest in your tributes?” she snapped back, not ready to admit the stylists she had hired were a mistake. It wasn’t as if there had been a lot of choice to begin with. Twelve wasn’t the most popular District.

“Oh, she’s fiery. I like her.” Chaff laughed. “Better than that Viola woman. _Thanks_ for sending that witch my way, by the way, man. Very nice. Good to know you have my back.”

Haymitch shrugged. “She wanted a promotion, you wanted a new escort and I wanted her gone. Everyone’s happy.”

“Sure.” Eleven’s victor chuckled. “Try to keep that one until this year’s crowning.”

Effie pursed her lips in irritation and tilted her head to the side disapprovingly. “It is rude to speak of someone standing in front of you in third person. All the more so when you haven’t been properly introduced.”

Haymitch tried to hide his smirk but it was plainly tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“How rude of me…” Chaff could muster charm when he wanted to, she mused, as she watched him scramble to his feet, handing his glass to Haymitch who took it wordlessly. She stared at the lump a second longer than propriety allowed, feeling both grossed out and sorry for him. She had never seen that kind of mutilation before. There were ways to arrange that in the Capitol. It made her wonder why he didn’t get a prosthesis. She was so focused on the lump she didn’t see him coming closer until he was already in her personal space. “Nice to meet you, love.”

His big hand coiled around her neck and pulled her to him. She was too stunned to move as he planted a long and wet kiss on her lips. It was chaste enough and it was over before she could blink but it was still enough to make Haymitch laugh.

“What is it with you, victors, and sexual harassment?” she asked because it was the first question that popped into her head. Chaff lifted an eyebrow at Haymitch but the latter only shrugged in answer. Effie couldn’t let it pass though, she jutted a threatening finger in the middle of Chaff’s chest. “Do that again without my express consent and I will make you regret it.” She glared at Haymitch. “That goes for you too.”

She was so angry suddenly, because they were clearly playing her for a fool, that she turned on her heels and walked out. She was almost at the elevator when heavy footsteps caught up with her.

“How are you so quick on these things?” he scowled at her shoes, pushing the elevator button before she had a chance to. “Don’t mind, Chaff, sweetheart, he’s… affectionate.”

“My name is _Effie_.” She gritted her teeth.

There were a few seconds of tensed silence while they waited for the elevator doors to open. Effie stepped in quickly when they did, anxious to get back to the penthouse and check on the tributes.

They reached for the penthouse button at the same time. She glared at him and he raised both of his hands defensively.

“Look, _Effie_.” he said. “Escorts are usually happy to get sex out of the arrangement. I didn’t mean to make you feel… _harassed_. I will give you money, if you like that better.”

“I would rather have an explanation.” she retorted. “What are those special appointments and why should I keep them from Hayden?”

He looked at her, clearly debating with himself. “You like him.”

“Well, yes.” she admitted readily. “He is friendly, contrary to you.”

He shrugged. “Then you will do it because it’s in his best interest and also because if you screw with me I will make you pay. I’ve been keeping him out of that shit for ten years, I won’t let you strut in here with your holier than thou attitude and destroy everything I worked for. We’re clear, sweetheart?”

“Are you threatening me?” she hissed.

That man could move very quickly. One second he was a safe distance away, the next, he was very much in her face. He was trying to force her to step back but she refused to cower in front of him.

“Not yet.” he murmured. He seemed amused by her determination to not being bullied by him. “This is a friendly chat.”

She shivered and she told herself it was from fear but, truly… Up close, she could see that his eyes weren’t totally grey, there were speck of gold in there. And his body was warm. She could feel it even though they weren’t touching. He was handsome in his way. She could see why so many women were attracted to him. He was manly. He was manly when so many men in the Capitol were even more worried about their looks than women were. Effie herself favored aesthetics, she liked well-groomed men, but she couldn’t deny there was a primitive pull there.

“You have an odd definition of the term.” she retorted just as the elevator chimed.

The doors slid open but they didn’t move, too busy glaring at each other.

She didn’t know why and when it happened but their breathing had quickened. Perhaps it was adrenaline. Perhaps it was the fact that his eyes kept darting to her lips.

“Everything’s alright?”

They both jumped at Hayden’s inquisitive voice.

Effie recovered first and exited the elevator just as angry as she had entered it. She stormed to the living-room but it wasn’t quick enough not to hear Hayden’s rebuff.

“I like her, Haymitch. She’s nice.” Hayden spat. “Don’t mess with her.”

“Don’t act like a child.” Haymitch scoffed. “She’s an escort not your friend.”

She elected to ignore it and made a point of acting as friendly as she could with Hayden during dinner – a task that was somehow rendered harder by the fact that he didn’t approve of her trying to teach the children some manners. Haymitch spent the whole evening in his room which suited her just fine.

Of course, when an Avox greeted her the next morning with a small square grey envelope with Haymitch’s name on it, she pondered what to do.

Snooping in one’s mail was, after all, the utmost of bad manners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Will she? Won't she? ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Effie cornered Haymitch in the corridor right after breakfast – a breakfast he hadn’t bothered to attend – with a scowl and a muffin.

“Do you even eat?” she snapped, still annoyed from the previous day. Yet the altercation between them was not a reason for him to miss both dinner and breakfast. She couldn’t very well have a victor dying of hunger under her watch.

“What are you now, my keeper?” he grumbled, snatching the muffin from her hand and munching on it while appraising her new outfit. It was a dress entirely made of green and red feathers. She was very proud of it. “You look like a parrot.”

“You are _such_ a charming man.” she deadpanned, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Hayden and their tributes were still in the dining room. She would need to escort them down to training soon but first… She pulled the grey envelope out of an hidden pocket and handed it to him silently.

She had debated over opening it but had finally opted to respect the rule her mother had droned into her head from an early age : manners first.

He was quick in making it disappear in his own pocket, his eyes darting to the dining-room door. “He didn’t see it?”

“No.” she sighed. “Now will you trust me and tell me…”

“Finally up?” Hayden’s voice boomed from behind her. “I’m surprised, it’s early for you.”

The hostility was strong and Effie ducked out of the way, sensing an impending fight. Haymitch didn’t take the bait though, he simply shrugged. “Too early to fight. See you later. Thanks for the muffin, sweetheart, you’re a doll.”

It wasn’t the muffin he was thanking her for, she figured, as she watched him make his way to the elevator. The mystery was growing.

And Hayden looked very displeased.

“Your brother shouldn’t starve himself because we don’t get along!” she argued defensively.

His face softened and he accepted her explanation with a smile. She felt guilty for lying.

The guilt settled at the bottom of her stomach and remained there all day. The children gone for training, she and Hayden were free to start approaching sponsors and testing water. She had thought gathering sponsors would be hard but fun, she was mistaken.

Sponsors naturally shunned Twelve and when they acknowledged them it was generally to ask after Haymitch’s whereabouts. Effie watched, helpless, as Hayden grew more and more sullen during the course of the afternoon.

“If he tried to get us sponsors, we would be rich.” he muttered to her at some point, after one more old woman had gently but firmly brushed them aside when it had become clear Haymitch was nowhere around.

Effie was a little more successful with men but barely. When they went back to the penthouse, right in time to welcome the children from training, they were exhausted, frustrated and a lot more closer than when they had started that morning. Hayden was an easy-going person and Effie always did her best to be friendly so they got along just fine. Some nervous bouts of laughter and absurd conversations with sponsors who seemed to think it was of the utmost importance to appraise them on their pet’s health did the rest.

The friendship might have been tentative at the beginning of the day but it certainly wasn’t at the end.

“You didn’t chat with any of the other victors today…” she commented after dinner, once the tributes had gone to bed and they were left alone in the living-room to share a cup of hot cocoa – they had decided they would leave the liquor to his brother, neither of them having a taste for it. Haymitch had never reappeared but Hayden had told her it was his way and there was no reason to be worried.

It had puzzled her all day. The other victors were all polite and greeted him warmly enough but they also tended to scatter away from Hayden as soon as they could. It was strange because they otherwise stuck together and caught up with each other’s lives… Hayden seemed to be the only one so outwardly excluded.

“I don’t have friends here.” he replied, flashing her a quick grin. “That’s why I want to keep you. Please don’t sleep with Haymitch and let him bully you into quitting.”

She giggled at the stupidity of the image. “I can safely promise you there is no chance in hell of that happening.” She took a sip of the hot beverage and relaxed against the back of the couch. “Besides, nobody _ever_ bullied me into anything I didn’t want to do.”

“You’re stubborn, I noticed.” he softened that observation with a grin to let her know it wasn’t a bad thing.

“I am.” she agreed. “Which is why I need to ask… Why don’t you like the other victors?”

It couldn’t be because they were from other Districts. She had seen plenty of victors from different Districts mingling and laughing together.

“Ever stop to think maybe _they_ don’t like _me_?” His smile, just like his voice, was bitter.

“I can’t imagine why…” she frowned. Hayden was a perfectly nice young man.

“Because I didn’t kill anyone so I’m not really a victor in their book or because my big brother is a jerk who doesn’t want to share his friends and his so-called glory.” he shrugged. “Take your pick.”

“I highly doubt that’s the case.” she offered quietly. “Well… Your brother _is_ a jerk, unfortunately. That much is true.”

“My brother spread the word and now they’re avoiding me like the plague.” he chuckled. “But naturally, he leaves the mentoring work to me. He’s a lazy ass.”

“Language.” she rebuked him. “But I noticed.”

They shared a smile and finished the rest of their cocoa, talking over possible angles for the interviews. It was late when they said their goodbyes and went to bed and Haymitch was still missing.

It bothered Effie. Yes, Haymitch was an adult and according to Hayden it wasn’t unusual for him to spend his nights away from the penthouse but whether he liked it or not, he was still her responsibility and she didn’t like not knowing where he was or what he was doing.

She was a light sleeper.

When someone bumped in the furniture in the corridor and let out a string of curses loud enough to wake the dead, it was no wonder she jumped upright in bed. She didn’t hesitate before slipping a dressing gown on and rushing to the door. She paused right before opening it, sparing a thought for her bare face and her hair but then she threw caution to the wind. A glance at the clock confirmed it was two in the morning, they could cut her some slack.

Haymitch hadn’t gone far by the time she wandered in the corridor. He was staggering in the direction of his bedroom, leaning heavily against the wall to keep himself upright.

“You’re drunk.” she accused at once. “And that’s a lovely euphemism.”

He didn’t even turn his head. “Leave me alone.”

“Where were you?” she asked, catching up with him.

“None of your _fucking_ business.” he muttered, bumping into another table. The vase on it swayed this way and that, she was quick to steady it before it would fall. “ _Fuck_!”

“Would you watch your language?” she snapped. “Your mother would be appalled.”

“Leave my mother where she is.” he shot back.

A door creaked down the corridor and then Hayden appeared, rubbing sleep off his eyes, wearing nothing but sweat pants. She wondered what it was with those brothers and showing off their chests. Hayden’s wasn’t marred with scars like Haymitch but it also looked firmer.

Effie had trouble averting her eyes.

“You’re drunk.” he spat, glaring at his brother.

“Spare me the lecture.” Haymitch grumbled, trying to make his way to his room again but failing miserably. Effie took pity and grabbed his arm. He paused for a second, clearly debating between shrugging her hand off and accepting the help. In the end, he didn’t have time to decide because Hayden stepped in, tearing his arm away from her and forcing it around his own shoulders.

The forced help didn’t agree with Haymitch. He tried to push his brother off which only made them stumble into the table again. Effie saved the vase for the second time that night and decided it was safer to place it down on the floor for now.

“Leave me alone!” Haymitch growled. “I _don’t_ need your help.”

“Like hell, you don’t.” Hayden hissed. “You can barely stand.”

“Get _away_ from me!” he shouted.

He succeeded in pushing his brother off him but Hayden advanced on him again with a closed face. Effie swiftly stepped between them, a hand outstretched in each direction.

“ _Quiet_. Both of you.” she ordered in a whisper. “You will wake the children.”

If they hadn’t already.

Hayden had the sense to look sheepish but Haymitch simply slumped against the wall with a dismissive groan.

 _Insufferable_ , she thought.

“I will take care of him.” she told Hayden. “Go back to bed.”

“No, that’s not your job…” he started protesting but she waved his objections away.

She would rather help him to bed than listen to their arguing all night. She glared at Haymitch as soon as his brother had gone back to his room.

“Are you going to make this difficult?” she asked.

“No…” he promised, accepting the arm she outstretched. He leaned against her and she was surprised by how heavy he was.

“You need to lay back on the muffins.” she muttered. His chuckles were deep and rough.

It took some time but they managed to reach his room without any more bumping into furniture. He flopped down on his bed, on his back, and she shook her head in disapprobation. He was so drunk she was sure he would fall asleep like that if she let him.

With a sigh – and a fleeting thought for her mother who had raised her to be helpful and dignified in any circumstance – she tugged his shoes off and winced at the sight of his big toe poking out of his socks. She added that to the list of clothes she absolutely needed to order for him and Hayden. He pushed on his hands and sat up when she was taking off his second shoe.

“I’m very drunk, sweetheart.” he said.

“I noticed.” she replied flatly, quickly dealing with the buttons of his shirt. She pushed it off his shoulders and looked around for the clothes hamper but his room was in such a state of disarray – and how quickly could that man turn a room into a pigsty? – that it was nowhere to be found. She was so focused in finding it that she hadn’t been paying attention to him. When he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her on the bed, she didn’t see it coming. She found herself on her back with him looming over her.

He tugged at the belt of her dressing gown, fumbling with the knot. It occurred to her she should have been afraid or, at least angry, but truthfully she was too stunned and he was too drunk to be much of a threat. She slapped his clumsy fingers away from her dressing gown.

“What do you think you are doing?” she asked calmly.

He propped himself on his elbow to look at her properly. He was frowning, confused. “You took my shirt off.”

“Yes, and?” she prompted.

“And…” he trailed off. It was so obvious he was racking his brain to give her a clear answer, she had to suppress a grin. “I thought you had changed your mind about payment.”

“You’re obsessed with getting me into your bed, Haymitch.” she declared. “You have a problem.”

“You took off my shirt.” he argued defensively.

“To help you to bed.” she clarified.

His eyes were glassy and unfocused. “Ah.” He took his hands away from her at once and rolled away. “When Capitol women take my shirt off, they usually want something else. Sorry.”

“What kind of Capitol women have you been hanging out with?” She pursed her lips in displeasure. Those women he described sounded awful. “Most of us have manners, you know.”

He mumbled something she didn’t quite catch but it sounded like _monster_. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

She sat up and studied him attentively. He had flopped an arm on his eyes but his breathing was deep and almost even.

“I am going to take off your belt now.” She cleared her throat. Sleeping with a belt couldn’t be comfortable. “Please don’t take this as anything more than a friendly gesture.”

He grunted but didn’t verbally answer her. Other than from lifting his hips when she told him to, he didn’t move either.

“Goodnight, Haymitch.” she whispered, suddenly realizing how inappropriate it all was.

She was at the door when he spoke again. “Effie?”

It was good to know he knew her name. “Yes?”

He seemed to deliberate with himself for a second and his tone was reluctant. “Thanks.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

The silence in the dining room wasn’t comfortable.

It only grew worse when Haymitch finally showed up and slumped on a chair, surveying the breakfast table with dazed eyes. The simple sight of the food made him turn a nice shade of green. Hayden poured a large glass of orange juice, filled a plate with fruits and placed both in front of him before handing him a fork. There was a silent battle of some sort until Haymitch caved in, grabbed the fork and stabbed a strawberry.

Effie sipped her coffee and pretended to be very focused on her toast.

The tributes picked up on the tension and exchanged a look. She was pleased to see Stella was using her fork properly for once. Sage was the first to excuse himself for training – he actually _asked_ her to be excused and Effie couldn’t help but beam at him proudly for that flawless show of manners – and Stella followed quickly, only too happy to flee the room.

Effie wished she could have done the same.

If anything, the tension only grew after the tributes had departed.

Haymitch looked unperturbed though. He munched on his fruits, staring into space.

Effie took on herself as much as she could but in the end, she put down her cup a tad more violently than necessary. Hayden looked up from his own coffee warily and Haymitch glanced at her with an inquisitive expression.

“Please, remember to close your mouth when you chew.” she requested. He would upset her digestion at that rate.

He gave her a sardonic smile and only made a show of stuffing his mouth with pieces of fruits and chomping on them. Juices trickled down the corner of his lips.

“I’m sorry.” Hayden offered.

“ _You_ have done nothing to be sorry about.” she replied. “As for you…” She didn’t glance at Haymitch, she didn’t fancy seeing half-chewed fruits flying out of his mouth. “We need to set up some rules.”

“Good luck with that.” Hayden chuckled, relaxing back on his chair.

Effie didn’t let that comment rain her down. She continued on buttering a toast she had no intention to eat, carefully avoiding the senior mentor’s eyes. She had turned the rules over and over in her head during the night, she had scribbled them down on her notepad and she had decided they were reasonable. “First, you will let me know where you are going and with whom when you plan on leaving the penthouse for so long. Second, you will respect my schedules. When I say you are to meet us somewhere, you _will_ meet us there regardless of previous engagements. Third, don’t get as drunk as you were last night outside of the penthouse – or at the very least in public – it could hurt Twelve’s image.”

“I _am_ Twelve’s image.” he scoffed.

“And that’s the problem.” Hayden muttered.

“ _Precisely_.” Effie declared, pointing at the younger victor with her toast. “You are a playboy. I don’t care much for what you do with your private life, Haymitch, but you are very much linked to Twelve’s image. We can’t sell the children’s image to sponsors because they look like Twelve, they look like _Hayden_ and not like you. Unfortunately, sponsors want you, they _love_ you. Which brings me to my fourth point, you will help us get sponsors.”

“You have a degree in public relations or something?” Haymitch snorted. “Hayden is good with the kids. I don’t need to get involved in that.”

“I’m not asking you to mentor, I am asking you to help us raise sponsors.” Effie hissed. “Those are my conditions.”

Haymitch’s grey eyes were burning a hole in the side of her neck but Effie sipped her coffee calmly.

“What conditions?” Hayden frowned. “Conditions to what?”

“Never mind.” Haymitch grumbled. He pushed a round-shaped piece of banana around his plate for a second, obviously displeased by the terms of her bargain. She had thought hard about that too. As long as she didn’t get an envelope for Hayden, she didn’t need to hide anything from him so she would deal with that when and if it came to pass. Meanwhile, she could use it to get some measure of control on Haymitch.

The tributes needed all the help they could get.

“I do mind.” Hayden growled, alternating between glaring at Haymitch and staring at her with worry. “Effie, if he’s trying to coerce you into something…”

“That’s what you think of me?” Haymitch scowled. “I _coerce_ women?”

“There is nothing untoward going on.” Effie quickly cut in. “And I don’t think you are acting very fair to your brother, Hayden. He certainly never tried to coerce me.”

At least she didn’t think that was what it had been about.

“So you’re on his side now?” he sneered. “Typical.”

“I am on no one’s side.” she sighed, resisting the urge to rub her forehead. She was _deeply_ feeling for Mrs Abernathy who, no doubt, had to deal with that kind of behavior daily. “Could you please put your differences aside until the end of the Games?”

“I don’t see that happening anytime soon.” Haymitch shrugged. “He _despises_ me, you see.”

It was delivered as if it was a good joke but Effie saw the pain underneath the playful façade. Hayden, however, did not.

“Stop making yourself the victim.” the youngest snapped.

“God forbid, we all know you’re the misunderstood one in the family.” Haymitch retorted, pushing his plate away and standing up. “You have a deal, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to my bathroom to take a piss if that’s okay with you.”

“General locations will be sufficient.” she deadpanned, refusing to get flustered over his pitiful attempts at spiting her. “I don’t need details.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a mock salute.

“Please, remember we are scheduled for the official team photoshoot at ten and then I would like you to come to the sponsors luncheon.” she declared.

He rolled his eyes. “Great. I love having my picture taken, haven’t you heard? I’m a star.”

He left the room before she could try to determine if he was serious or simply sarcastic. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“I am sorry about that.” Hayden sighed.

“You should stop apologizing for your brother, he is old enough to do it himself.” she advised, getting on her feet.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath on any apology coming from him, Effie.” he warned her.

“Nonsense.” She waved that comment away. She was in a very good mood. She thought she had dealt with the situation most efficiently. “I need to get ready for the photoshoot.” That was another thing she was looking forward to : her first official photoshoot as a District team member. Granted, it was Twelve and there were more glamorous Districts but there was time to be promoted yet.

She spent hours in her room, getting pampered by the girl’s prep team she had snatched for the occasion and truly relaxed for the first time since the Reaping. When she stepped out of that bedroom she felt like a queen, beautiful and powerful.

The dress was made of dark burgundy lace, thicker in the right place so that nothing improper would show. It was short with white trimming that matched the wig on her head, her gloves and her delicate feather eyelashes. The white see-through heels were breathtakingly high even for her and she was taller than Hayden by an inch. It brought her at the same size as Haymitch.

Neither of them looked as stunned by her outfit as she had hoped but she didn’t let it disturb her. She didn’t expect any fashion sense from Districts men.

“You’re very pretty.” Hayden said anyway.

“You need glasses.” Haymitch snorted.

They were both wearing the suits she arranged for them although she quickly noticed Haymitch had forsaken the tie. The first three buttons of his shirt were left undone and his hair looked like an animal had nested there. She clucked her tongue at him in disapprobation and spent almost ten minutes trying to get his hair under control, occasionally slapping his fingers away when they coiled around her wrists to get her away from him. They bickered over the issue until she realized there was nothing much to do that would help anyway.

“I am _so_ ordering the latest organic shampoo for you.” she sighed. “How do you even walk in public with that hair? Are you _sure_ you don’t want to wear a wig?”

His face was telling as to what she could do with that suggestion.

With a last sigh, she turned to her other victor. Hayden’s face was strangely guarded and he was looking at her and Haymitch in turn with plain mistrust. She chose not to notice and fussed over his crooked tie instead, knotting it in a more fashionable way, smoothing his jacket – his chest _was_ as firm as it looked – for long enough that he was smiling again by the time she was done.

Working with brothers jealousing each other would quickly become a pain, she mused.

The photoshoot was everything she had expected and went well enough. Hayden wasn’t as used to the exercise as she and Haymitch were – he didn’t like it much, she surmised from what he told her, but he had been made to pose for enough magazines that it had become familiar. She posed alone, with Hayden, with Haymitch, and she had a complete blast. The brothers looked amused at how enthusiastic she was over the whole thing. The team picture was what took the longest but the photographer was kind enough to show her the first results and she thought it would be amazing.

She was in a _very_ good mood by the time the sponsors luncheon rolled around and she didn’t let any dismissive behavior bring her down. She flirted with men, gossiped with women and managed to get some promises that they would consider sponsoring Twelve that year. _Considering_ Twelve was better than nothing.

She could tell from his slouched shoulders that Hayden wasn’t having the same luck but he was persistent and he went from group of people to group of people. She watched his progresses for a while and then turned to the buffet next to which Haymitch was lurking. He hadn’t made any effort to mingle even though he had been quite charming with whatever woman had approached him.

She marched on him, intending to give him a piece of her mind but Chaff reached him first and she stopped a safe distance away, not wanting a repeat of her last meeting with the man. She was close enough to hear them though.

“Since when do _you_ do sponsors meeting ?” Eleven’s victor asked. There was no amusement in his voice, he didn’t look like his jolly usual self. If anything he sounded worried.

“Since my new escort is a pain in the ass.” he shrugged. “She thinks I can get us deals.”

She didn’t understand where the irony was coming from.  

“Does she know what she’s asking?” Chaff sounded detached but his eyes betrayed him. They were focused on Haymitch, intent.

“Does it matter?” he replied.

Eleven’s victor opened his mouth but then he caught sight of her and changed track so abruptly she was confused. He whispered something to Haymitch and walked away. Her victor turned to her and beckoned her closer.

“Spying on me, now?” he accused.

“Of course not.” she lied straight to his face.

Another person might have taken it the wrong way but Haymitch only smirked. “You’re a good liar. That can come in handy.”

“What did Chaff mean?” she asked.

He surveyed her for a few seconds and then dismissed her question with a wave of his glass. “Go check on Hayden.”

“I highly doubt that was what he meant.” she deadpanned.

His smirk only grew. “Don’t hurt your pretty head thinking about it, sweetheart.” His eyes travelled down her dress and up again. “You look trashy. That’s not your style.”

“This is haute-couture.” she gasped. She was more offended by the insults aimed at her dress than at being called trashy.

“This is ugly.” he replied.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are a rustic ruffian who wouldn’t know beauty if it hit him on the head.”

“Oh, I know beauty alright, sweetheart.” he snorted, placing his glass on the table behind him and turning to face her. “You’re no beauty.”

She gaped at the utter rudeness and cruelty of that man.

“Speechless, are we?” he taunted. “I liked you better the other night. Without all that crap on your face…”

He lifted his hand but it must have been an instinctive move because he let it drop a second later without actually touching. Again, the mood shifted and she was left unsettled.

“Well, it proves my point, then.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “You don’t know what true beauty looks like.”

“I…” he started answering but he was cut off by a hand falling on his arm.

The hand was enclosed in a green glove that matched the green dress the woman was wearing. Effie knew her, of course, _everybody_ knew Celesta Vane. She was an actress still considered very popular although she didn’t shoot very often now, younger women had come and taken her place as a tragic icon.

Effie also decided that she was very rude to interrupt their conversation in this fashion.

“Are you ready, darling?” the actress asked Haymitch with a pout.

Haymitch’s charming smile – the one, she had come to learn, was mostly fake – sprung to his lips as if by reflex – or default, she wasn’t sure. “You didn’t have to come and pick me up.”

Celesta didn’t seem happy. “You cancelled our lunch session. I wasn’t pleased by that.”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault.” Effie offered, tired of being ignored. “I’ve asked him to attend the luncheon. Effie Trinket, it’s an honor to meet you, Miss Vane.”

She outstretched her hand but the green glove fingers remained on Haymitch’s arm, if anything, they coiled tighter around his forearm while the actress inspected her from head to toes.

“Cute.” Celesta sneered.

“My escort.” Haymitch was quick to explain. There was an edge to his smile. “Don’t get jealous on me, sweetheart.”

Effie was slightly alarmed by that comment. Suddenly, the possessive way the woman was latching at his arm made more sense but the idea was… disturbing. It certainly wasn’t uncommon for older women to parade around with young things at their beck and call yet Haymitch was thirty-one and she was at the very least sixty-two. An attraction on her part would be easily explained but on his?

“Don’t cancel again, darling.” Celesta declared. It almost sounded like a threat.

“If I remember right. I didn’t cancel, I pushed our appointment back.” he argued, sliding an arm around the woman’s waist with that trademark charm Effie was so use to see him display on camera. “Did you miss me?”

He shot Effie a glance that clearly said _go away_ but she was rooted to the spot.

“Terribly.” Celesta smiled, coiling her gloved hand around his neck.

There were a lot of flashes when she pulled him against her and this time, Effie _did_ hurry away, not fancying being caught on a tabloid as a background to the latest scandal.

She was shocked and a little out of sort. Her feet took her naturally to Hayden’s side who was watching the very public display of affection with a disgusted face.

“There’s a new one every year.” he explained. “This one looks older than our mother.”

Hayden shuddered and she steered him away before anyone could hear him disparaging his brother. There were journalists and paparazzi in the room and she wasn’t sure she would have been able to deal with such gossips.

She put it out of her mind and focused on the sponsors. _That_ was her real job : helping Twelve to win – _not_ babysitting Haymitch Abernathy.

The last part was made clear when the Head Gamemaker took her aside at the end of the luncheon and asked her politely but firmly to leave Haymitch’s schedule to the victor’s discretion.

Clearly, she thought with a huff, he had a lot of relations and he wasn’t above pulling some strings to be allowed out of sponsors meetings.


	6. Chapter 6

**_ Chapter 6 :  _ **

Hayden was displeased with her and trying hard not to show it.

“You look dashing, dear.” Effie lied, with a forced smile on her lips.

The fourteen years old girl looked down at herself, far from being convinced. She was right not to be. The pink dress was too frilly for her bony frame and it didn’t suit her complexion. It made her look ill.

Haymitch snorted from the couch he was slumped on but he was largely ignored.

“You do.” Hayden added. “You too, Sage.”

The boy was sullen and he seemed distracted, not completely there.

“Well.” Effie clapped her hands, trying to put some cheerfulness back in the situation. “Shall we go down? We wouldn’t want to be late for the interviews, now, would we?”

She ushered everyone in the elevator, silently praying everything would be alright. Twelve wasn’t a favorite that year and a week of lobbying, charming and flirting with sponsors hadn’t changed anything. Both of their tributes ranked a four on their last day of training and it didn’t even matter because the only name on every mouth was Finnick Odair’s, District Four’s male tribute.

“Miss Trinket, tell me again.” Stella begged suddenly, just as the elevator doors opened. The girl was nervously worrying her hands in front of her, pulling on her fingers as if it would help. There were tears in her eyes and Effie was afraid she would start to cry and muddle all the carefully constructed make-up.

Effie hastily clasped the young girl’s hands in hers and looked around at the frenzy going on backstage. Tributes, mentors, staff running everywhere… She couldn’t let anyone see the girl like that. Not only would it reflect badly on her as an escort, it would destroy her chance in the arena if people thought her weak.

“Could you…” she asked Hayden.

He nodded, placing a hand on Sage’s shoulder and guiding him out of the elevator.

“Five minutes.” he told her.

She nodded in turn, annoyed at his cold behavior. It wasn’t her fault stylists weren’t jumping on the chance to work with them.

She glanced at Haymitch but he remained in the elevator, leaning against the wall and watching her curiously. Effie elected to ignore him as she had done most of the week after the sponsors luncheon disaster. He had made a point to respect their deal though, letting her know where he was going and not to drink too much to make a show of himself outside of the penthouse but she was still acting frosty, irritated by his careless approach to mentoring. It was as if he didn’t care at all.

She pushed the button that would close the doors and stepped carefully in front of Stella so the girl wouldn’t be disturbed by Haymitch’s staring.

“Show me.” Effie instructed the girl.

Attitude was everything.

Hayden had been pleasantly surprised and very receptive to her idea of coaching their tributes not only on what they should say when Caesar would interview them but also as to how they should act. Apparently, escorts didn’t usually play any part in interview coaching which was, according to Effie, completely stupid since escorts would be far more acquainted with how to act in front of cameras than mentors.

Sage had been reluctant to listen to her advice, he had become frustrated very quickly and Hayden had taken over the lesson. Stella had been easier to work with. It had taken some work but the girl had relaxed at some point and Effie even had fun teaching her how to walk with high heels.

“I have two brothers and three sisters.” Stella droned out less naturally than she ought to. “I want to win so they are proud of me.” The girl gave a shaky smile, trying to emulate what Effie had showed her, but it came out strained and wobbly.

Something plummeted in her stomach.

She knew what she would have thought of a tribute wearing a hideous dress and acting so stiff in front of the cameras.

“Wonderful, dear!” Effie beamed anyway, fighting to keep the smile on her face. It hurt. “You will be the best one out there.”

“That’s not true…” Stella’s smile faded away. “Finnick…”

“Finnick Odair is the exact same age as you.” Effie cut her off before she could get too jittery. “The odds are fair and I would bet my wig they will be very much in your favor.”

“Promise?” the girl asked in a small frightened voice.

“Of course, I promise.” Effie laughed. “A lady never lies.”

She watched the child’s confidence grow back slowly and she pushed the button to open the door before it could deflate again. She nudged her out gently.

“Now, remember, dear…” Effie whispered in the girl’s ear. “Eyes bright, chin up, smile on and you will dazzle them all.”

Stella walked a few steps in front of her, doing her best to keep her head high as Effie had instructed. The escort was surprised when she felt a hand brushed against the small of her back.

She had almost forgotten about Haymitch.

“You did good in there.” He sounded almost surprised.

“It _is_ my job to take care of the tributes.” she huffed, irritated that he might have doubted her qualifications.

“She’s going to break your heart.” he predicted.

He quickened his step and joined his brother before she could ask what he meant by that. She was the last one to reach the waiting area designated for Twelve. There was a big screen mounted on the wall, members of staff were running everywhere…

“I’m going out after the interviews.” Haymitch announced once she was in hearing range. “I will be late so don’t wait up.” He turned to the tributes he had never bothered to properly meet in the first place. It occurred to Effie that he didn’t even know Stella had a newfound passion for chocolate or that Sage’s big dream was to learn to bake. “You two, stay away from the Cornucopia.” It was the first and the last advice he gave their tributes. He soon went back to acting as if the children weren’t there at all, he lifted interrogative eyebrows in his brother’s direction. “You’re watching from the audience or staying backstage?”

Stella’s hand immediately shot out and gripped Effie’s wrist so tight the escort had to suppress a wince.

Haymitch didn’t miss it but pretended he didn’t see.

“I will stay backstage.” she announced. The fake smile was starting to hurt her lips.

“I usually sit in the audience…” Hayden explained, feeling conflicted. “It gives us a better idea of what people…”

“Trinket doesn’t need you.” Haymitch interrupted him. “She can manage.”

There was a note of challenge in his voice and she didn’t even try to hide her glare. “I absolutely can.”

“If you’re sure…” Hayden offered but he didn’t linger for too long. She got the impression he was relieved not to have to deal with nervous teenagers gripped with stage fright.

He and Haymitch weren’t the only mentors to leave their tributes in the care of various stage members. She glimpsed the occasional escort or victor but most of the District teams seemed happy to leave their tributes to their own devices. It would have been difficult to do that with Stella latched on her wrist.

The TV flared to life with the Capitol’s sigil, quickly followed by Panem’s anthem. A stressed-looking woman with red dyed hair and a hummingbird tattoo on her neck called District One’s tributes.

The interviews were a long process. By the time District Four rolled around, Sage was crouched with his back against the wall, his face in his hands and Effie had to remind him four times not to rub the make-up off. Stella had let go of her wrist but she was standing so close Effie had placed her gloved hands on her shoulders in hope that it would comfort her.

The audience cheered so loud for Finnick everyone backstage did a double take.

“Why do we even bother?” Chaff muttered.

She hadn’t noticed Eleven’s victor approaching and she startled a little. She glanced at her tributes, checking they weren’t listening before turning to the mentor.

“He’s going to win, isn’t he?” she whispered. She immediately felt guilty for giving up on her own tributes so easily but the thought was nagging at her. She knew who she would have bet on if it had been any other year, had she been in front of her TV.

Chaff’s eyes darted from the screen, where Finnick was playing the charmer’s card, to her. “For his sake I hope not. He’s too young and too pretty.”

The odd answer made her frown but Eleven’s victor wandered back to his fellow mentor and his own tributes, sprouting joke on joke to relax them.

Finnick’s time dwindled and he walked out under the audience’s cheering. They were screaming his name. She felt for the poor girl from Five who had to go after him and was completely ignored.

“He’s very beautiful, isn’t he?” Stella told her, watching Four’s tribute being ushered away by Mags. The woman was nodding enthusiastically and patting him on the back in turn but the boy’s easy smile slipped away all the same.

Effie wondered how many of them were faking a smile that night.

“Never mind that.” Effie chided her gently. “You are beautiful too. They will love you.”

By the time Caesar was done with Seven’s tributes, she knew it was a lost cause.

The audience was becoming restless. They clapped less, cheered less and they all looked bored. There was a regain of interest when District Eight’s female tribute walked on stage. She was pretty and she looked fierce, clever too. They loved her. The boy was a deception. So were Nine and Ten.

Eleven did nothing to wake them up.

When Sage walked on stage, people were checking their watch and hiding yawns behind their hand.

Sage stammered, he didn’t follow the line of answers Effie had told him to and even Caesar’s gentle nudging in the right direction wasn’t enough to bring the interview back on track. People actually laughed at how clueless he was acting.

“I don’t want to go.” Stella begged, eyes bright with tears when the woman in charge of organization called her. “They will laugh at _me_.”

“No, they won’t.” Effie promised. “Just remember what I told you.”

Sage hurried off the stage and to her, distressed and obviously angry at himself. Effie patted his shoulder, swore it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was, lied through her teeth all the while watching Stella make her way to Caesar in her ugly dress.

At least she didn’t stumble on her heels.

Stella’s interview wasn’t exceptional but Effie thought she did well and she told as much to Hayden privately when he showed up at the end. He agreed with her with a smile, congratulating her for her work. She supposed she was forgiven for the stylists mishap.

Saying goodbye to the children was a lot harder than she thought it would be.

She kept her faith that maybe, if they were lucky, one of them would come back but it was difficult to think she might see only _one_ of them again. When Stella hugged her tight, it was all she could do not to start crying.

She excused herself quickly, hiding in her room like a coward and letting Hayden’s soft knocks on her door unanswered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I will be out of town next week for a competitive exam so there won't be any update.
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. This story is dear to me and I love and cherish the feedback!


	7. Chapter 7

Effie was in an excellent mood as she entered the Game Headquarters on Hayden’s arm that morning. She nodded to people on her left, smiled to people on her right… She was happy and bubbly and she could tell Hayden was both amused and annoyed at the same time but she didn’t really care.

She felt like a Queen.

It was _her_ hour of glory.

She had bottled up her mixed feelings from the night before and had buried them deep under a newfound layer of optimism. Their tributes had the same chances as anyone else after all, and she trusted them completely. This year, she vowed, Twelve would win.

They found a place near a pillar with a good view of the giant screen occupying an entire wall. She thought it was almost as big as the ones in the Square but she wasn’t sure.

When the Capitol’s seal appeared, quickly followed by the anthem, there was a general excited chorus of exclamations and then a hush. When Caesar showed up, his bright purple hair rolled in a quiff – the latest fashionable hairstyle for men but Hayden had outright refused to take the hint when she had brushed the subject – everyone was bristling with impatience : sponsors, mentors or escorts, they were all awaiting the beginning of the Games.

“We are going to win, Hayden.” she said, squeezing his arm in unchecked anticipation.

When he looked at her, Hayden’s face was guarded but she could read the sadness in his eyes very clearly. She decided he was simply being pessimistic.

It wasn’t long before Caesar left his place to the very first images of the arena. There were collective _oooh_ and _aaah_ when the glimmering lake appeared, surrounding what appeared to be an island. The camera panned on the Cornucopia which was situated at the center of the arena, surrounded by the twenty-four tributes.

She didn’t think anyone was listening to Caesar’s chatter anymore, people were too busy talking – she heard a victor from Five let out an aggravated comment about how unfair the arena was for people from his District but the man was quickly shushed by his fellow mentor – Effie, for her part, was focused on the screen. As was customary, the camera did a circle sweep, showing the face of each of the twenty-four tributes with their name and District.

“Oh, that’s Stella!” she squealed, digging her nails in Hayden’s arm.

The girl, for the first time since the Reaping, looked good. The stylists had pinned her hair in a high ponytail that freed her face and the cargo pants and tank top provided this year suited her figure or, at least, didn’t make her look as unbecoming as the pink dress from the interviews.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Effie.” Hayden warned, shifting until he could free his arm from her grip and lean against the pillar. It wasn’t suitable at all for a mentor to be slouched in that fashion but Effie couldn’t bring herself to care or to let him damper her enthusiasm.

When the camera showed Finnick Odair, most of the sponsors clapped and cheered in delight. The boy clearly was a favorite but it meant nothing, she knew, favorites had lost before. Mags looked pleased though. The woman stood a little apart from the main crowd, arms folded, and a smug smile on her lips.

When Sage appeared on screen, Effie made a point to clap very loudly – it didn’t matter if she was alone or if people glanced at her in surprise or mockery. Her tributes were every bit as good as Four’s.

 _“Ladies and Gentlemen…”_ boomed Claudius Templesmith’s voice. “ _Let the sixty-fifth Hunger Games begin! And may the odds_ _be_ ever _in your favor !”_

The crowd fell silent and Effie held her breath.

At the sound of the gong, every tributes started moving as one. It was difficult to glimpse anything in the general confusion. The screen divided into several squares, showing different angles of the Cornucopia. On one of them, she spied Stella starting to run in the direction of the Cornucopia, the girl stopped mid-way, probably afraid by the first bodies dropping dead to the ground, and doubled back the way she had come. She disappeared in the heavy foliage.

“Good.” Hayden breathed out behind her.

Effie looked for Sage, her eyes darting left and right but never finding the boy until the camera zoomed on Finnick who was fighting the female tribute from Two for a knife. Sage was behind him, slumped over, blood still flowing from his open throat.

Her gasp was sharp and several heads turned in her direction but she couldn’t care less. She couldn’t look away either, her eyes burned, her breathing quickened.

“Keep it together.” Hayden ordered firmly, taking hold of her elbow. “Effie, _keep it together_. You can’t cry in here.”

She couldn’t.

She knew that.

It didn’t stop the tears from escaping and rolling down her cheeks. She batted her fake eyelashes quickly but it didn’t help, not enough. The cosmetic products made her eyes burn harder in reaction to the tears. It was all a mess.

Hayden’s grip on her elbow was firm and he steered her toward the closest exit door, as discreetly as he could. People were too busy staring at the screen to pay them any attention. She caught Livia’s eyes in the crowd, District Six’s escort sent her a sympathetic smile.

Eleven’s victor was leaning next to the door and Hayden couldn’t hide a groan of annoyance.

“What’s up with her?” Chaff asked in a snort.

“None of your business.” Hayden spat.

“Sorry, boy…” Eleven’s victor mocked. “Didn’t mean to insult your girlfriend.”

Effie nudged Hayden forward before he could answer. They didn’t need a strife in the middle of the viewing room.

“I need to go back in there and see what can be done for Stella.” he told her. “Go back to the penthouse.”

“I want to help.” Effie protested, trying to keep her tears under control. She didn’t know what was happening to her. She had watched countless Games, why would those ones be any different? Sage was just another tribute. He was just…

“You’re in no state to help.” Hayden replied harshly. “Go back to the penthouse, cry for awhile if it helps, and come back when you’re sure you won’t lose it again. That’s _dangerous_ , Effie.”

Dangerous…

She didn’t understand.

She didn’t understand but her hands were shaking and she didn’t think it would make a lot of difference if she disappeared to the penthouse for a few minutes. Just to take a breath, she told herself, just a minute alone to collect herself.

She gave him a brisk nod and walked along the deserted corridors to the elevator. She willed her fingers to stop shaking during the ride but it didn’t work. No matter how deep she breathed or how much she tried to relax, the tremors didn’t disappear, they spread to her whole body until she was shivering from head to toes without any good reason.

She stumbled to the penthouse’s living-room more than she walked.

The TV was on, of course. The Games were mandatory, the TV was programmed to switch on automatically. She was more surprised by the presence of the man sitting on the couch in front of it, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“What’s up with you?” Haymitch asked her when he glimpsed her hovering near the door hesitantly. “Shouldn’t you be busy partying downstairs?”

The TV was on mute but it was perhaps worse. The bloodbath was still in full swing, teenagers were dropping dead all around the Cornucopia, trying to get their hands on weapons, food or bags… And all in silence. Haymitch was watching her, twirling his whiskey in his glass absent-mindedly, but he didn’t say another word.

Silence, she thought, could be deafening.

“Sage is dead.” she said through the chattering of her teeth.

“Yeah, I saw.” Haymitch shrugged. There was something too meticulously detached around that shrug though. It was studied, made careless on purpose.

“I can’t stop shaking.” she whispered at last, her eyes darting from him to the screen and back on him again. “Why can’t I stop shaking? I don’t understand… I…”

“Come here, sweetheart.” He patted the couch next to him.

Her feet took her there mechanically. She dropped more than she sat, barely remembering to cross her legs at the ankles. She took the glass she was handed and didn’t pause to consider that she wasn’t fond of whiskey or that she didn’t drink from other people’s glasses as a rule. She gulped it down and he poured her another one.

It burned and the taste was atrocious but by the second one, the chills faded away.

She reached for the bottle but he snatched it and placed it out of her reach before taking the glass back.

“If I get you drunk, Hayden will have my balls on a plate.” he chuckled. “I like them where they are.”

“Language.” she whispered by reflex. Her eyes went back to the screen.

“The bloodbath is almost over.” he stated, as if reading her mind. “I would say it’s the worst part but I try not to lie when I don’t have to.”

She didn’t understand.

“Why is it so different?” she asked, her voice so low it was a miracle he could hear her.

“You’re on the other side now, Princess.” he shrugged. “Better get used to it ‘cause _that_ …” he waved at her. “… it’s never going away. It will only get worse.”

“The first day on the train… You said the job would break me.” she recalled. Her mind wasn’t clear. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the image of Sage that was seared into her brain but she couldn’t quite make sense of her own reactions. She had always loved the Games but this year… She couldn’t for the love of her understand why it was so different.

She felt disgusted, grossed out by the blood and, overall, so crushingly _sad_.

Sage was _dead_.

He would never annoy her again with his sulking, he would never learn to bake, he would never…

“It breaks everyone.” Haymitch laughed in his glass. “Some are just better at hiding it than others.”

“Are _you_ broken?” she asked.

He stared at her a few seconds and raised his glass in a toast. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” His eyes turned serious. “Learn to hide it, Trinket. You won’t like the outcome if they think you’re questioning their little Games. Be a puppet.”

She didn’t think she could.

It was a frightening thought.

Effie’s only goal had only been to stand out… Belong to the elite yes, but _rise_ _above_ it at the same time… She wanted to be at the top of the pyramid. She wanted to be…

“Here’s your girl.” he nodded to the screen. They were apparently doing a quick survey of who was still alive and who was where in the arena. Stella was lost in the jungle-like forest, looking around her, clearly lost. “She ran away from the Cornucopia. Maybe she will last a few hours.”

It was so careless, so…

“She will win.” Effie hissed with a newfound energy. Never mind the brothers’ defeatist attitude, she didn’t care for it, Effie knew what she had to do. First stop would be her room, a change of clothes and a make-up check and then she would head down and she would dazzle every sponsor into helping Twelve. “Stella _will_ win.”

It was a promise she intended to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?


	8. Chapter 8

The car was silent except for the low rumble of the engine.

Effie was exhausted, she kept reminding herself to straighten her shoulders and sit properly instead of slouching against the door like Hayden was doing next to her. The party had raged on until early morning and she had forced him to remain to the very last minute, arguing that it could only help their cause. The victor had readily confessed that he tended to avoid parties whatsoever and confined himself in the Games Headquarters. It was his first mistake, she had judged, rich sponsors needed to be courted and run after. They wouldn’t be waiting at the Headquarters, half the deals were made all around town at parties, red carpets and social events.

“We made a lot of progress tonight.” she said, if only not to fall asleep. “Mrs Fairfew was very receptive.”

The old woman had also been very clear that she wouldn’t consider sponsoring them until Stella was part of the last four tributes standing but Effie forced herself to remain optimistic. The Games had been raging for two days and Stella was still alive. Granted, her plan seemed to be avoiding other tributes but it was working well enough for now. She had a close encounter with a mutt but she had managed to run away when the male tribute from Five had stumbled upon them, the mutt had switched target and Stella had run away without looking back.

Even Haymitch – when he had appeared for breakfast the day before, for the first time in days – had declared her approach a smart one. Hayden was less convinced. According to him, no sponsor would bet on someone who wasn’t actively trying to play the Games by taking the others out. Nobody would believe in her, he said.

True to his word, they hadn’t found a single sponsor.

Most of them were fighting to throw their money at Odair anyway. The boy was certainly doing well enough on his own, though. Everybody knew Mags was loaded with sponsoring money but she hadn’t sent anything to her tribute yet. The only thing Caesar could talk about was speculating over what the silver parachute would bring.

“I don’t know.” Hayden shrugged. “Being in the last four would be a feat for a fourteen years old. I’m not sure she will last that long.”

“Of course, she will.” Effie declared reassuringly. “She’s clever.”

“And _fourteen_.” Hayden sighed, leaning his head against the window. His grey eyes were riveted outside, watching the Capitol streets flashing by. “Nobody ever won a Game at fourteen. The younger is…”

“Sixteen.” she finished. “I know. Won’t it be lovely to make history?”

He looked at her, a little sad and clearly debating calling her on getting her hopes up again. Finally, he breathed out and his shoulders slacked, he gave her a small smile. “It would be.”

“It _will_ be.” she insisted. “You will see.”

The Games were going fast and nobody expected them to drag for more than a week. Second day in, they were down to ten tributes. It would only be a matter of time before the careers pack turned on one another which should bring the count down again… It could work, she mused. It _could_.

It was so late – or so early – that the usual crowd of fans wasn’t waiting in front of the Center. She and Hayden made their way to the doors peacefully, albeit sleepily, and made a beeline for the elevator. She watched the huge screens placed at several corners of the hall, all were displaying nighttime programs : one live feed of the arena in which nothing was happening at that hour, one late talk-show and… a show about famous people and their latest scandals.

“Oh, what did your brother do now?” she sighed with a frown, spying the unmistakable senior victor from Twelve on the screen. He was walking out of a slick black car, laughing, a bottle of champagne in one hand, Celesta Vale latched on his other one. He looked every bit the dashing playboy who broke hearts all over the place. It was a difficult image to associate with the man she had been living with for more than a week. It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask Hayden several times if he was sure Haymitch didn’t have a twin brother somewhere.

“Probably more drunk partying and more womanizing.” he scoffed, tossing a disgusted look at the TV before stepping in the elevator. “Sometimes I wonder if he realizes Mama watches everything during Games time. He doesn’t have the good sense to be ashamed but _she_ does.”

Effie wisely remained silent, refusing to take a side in their obvious feud. Hayden was her friend but Haymitch was her colleague and she knew if she got involved, working with them would be unbearable.

“I want to check on Stella before going to bed.” Effie said instead, just as the elevator’s chime signaled they had reached their destination.

“I will find us some tea.” he told her, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

She barely nodded in reply, in a hurry to check nothing had happened to Stella during the night. She switched the lights on without thinking about it, looking around for the TV remote. That was when her eyes fell on the sleeping figure on the couch and she was torn between rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Haymitch had clearly dropped on the couch right after coming back from wherever he had spent the evening. He was on his stomach, one arm dangling from the couch, a spilled glass mere inches away from his twitching fingers, his other arm was under the cushion his cheek was resting on. From time to time his body jerked slightly, his lips moved in a silent but hurried command… He was obviously dreaming.

His sleeping position couldn’t be comfortable, Effie thought. He would wake up with a crick in his neck and he would be even crankier than usual which would be a pain because she was determined to enroll him during her sponsors hunt the next day. She was positive people would react better to him than Hayden as unfair as it was.

Besides, it was only the proper thing to do so she didn’t think twice before reaching for his shoulder, intending to gently shake him awake.

What happened next was too quick for her exhaustion addled brain.

The tip of her fingers barely had time to brush against the soft blue shirt she had ordered for him. Then there were movements, a sharp pain, a shriek and she found herself on the floor, the coffee table digging painfully in her upper back, clutching her arm. She realized, a second too late, that she had been the one to scream.

She felt like screaming again when she saw Haymitch, heavily breathing, a knife stained with blood in his hand, looking left and right with an air of madness. Her eyes then fell down on the blood dripping from her arm and she let out a whine.

It seemed to ground him somehow.

He dropped the knife and kneeled right in front of her, prying the arm away from her hand without giving her any choice in the matter. She flinched when he grabbed her wrist, he glanced up but didn’t comment.

“Effie? I heard screaming…” Hayden came running in and froze behind the couch when he saw the scene.

Next thing she knew, he was roughly pushing his brother aside and cradling her arm in his hands.

“I told you to get rid of that _fucking_ knife!” Hayden snapped, peering closely at the long gash. Effie averted her eyes. The wound was throbbing but she didn’t think it was very deep, she felt nauseous nonetheless. She had never been stabbed before, that was a first. Hayden took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed on the wound to staunch the blood flow. “What are you waiting for?” he snarled at his brother who was simply sitting there, looking at her in obvious distress. “To kill the next one? _Twice_ , Haymitch.”

“Sorry.” Haymitch mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry.”

He looked remorseful enough in her opinion but still. “What were you doing with a knife in the first place?” Her voice sounded faint to her own ears.

“He can’t sleep without it, he says.” Hayden answered for him with an angry sneer. “Bullshit, like everything else.”

“Language.” she rebuked him softly.

Haymitch licked his lips, eyes averted from her. “I will get the first aid kit.”

“Yeah, you do that. Try not to hurt anyone else on the way.” Hayden spat. “How are you feeling, Effie?”

Bad. And for several reasons.

The obvious one was the fact that her arm had been ripped open – although a quick glance let her know the bleeding had stopped – the less obvious one was Haymitch’s face. He looked so dejected and she wasn’t sure what to think about the self-loathing in his eyes…

“You were lucky.” Hayden continued, helping her up so she could sit on the couch. She was cautious not to drop blood everywhere, it would be difficult to explain. “He almost killed our mother last year. He was having a nightmare, she tried to wake him and next thing I knew I was running to the Seam to find the healer… He stabbed her in the shoulder. Could have been the heart.”

That was something she would have liked to be appraised of before taking the job, she thought.

“I do not think he intended to hurt me.” she whispered anyway, the memory of his haunted grey eyes too present in her mind.

“That’s all he ever does. Intending to or not.” he declared, clearly angry.

Given that he walked back in right at that very second, there was no way Haymitch hadn’t heard him but he didn’t comment. He dropped the first aid kit on the couch and walked out again after pausing long enough to pick up his knife and grab a bottle of liquor.

She let Hayden tend to her wound, already rearranging her schedule so she would have time to pop in the Games clinic first thing the next morning to have it checked – you were never too careful, what if it left a scar? She insisted she was fine all the while even if she honestly wasn’t.

“Never go near him again when he’s sleeping.” Hayden warned her, when he was done dressing the wound. “I’m truly sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” she assured him with a fake smile. “It was no one’s fault really.”

Haymitch was clearly a very disturbed man. She wasn’t even surprised.

“He could have at least apologized properly himself but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that if I were you.” Hayden sighed, squeezing her hand to convey unnecessary excuses. “He wasn’t always like that, you know. Before his Games…” He shrugged. “It changed him.”

Of course it did, she mused, he was a victor now. He had access to the Capitol, he had opportunities to _improve_ himself…

“Did they change you?” she asked, curious. “Your Games?”

It took long minutes before Hayden shrugged again. “Not really. But the only thing I saw in the arena was my cave, you know. During his Games, Haymitch did everything he could to come back. I’m not sure he would have stopped at anything. I’m not sure I could have done what he did.” A bitter sort of laughter escaped his lips. “Forget that, I’m _sure_ I couldn’t have done what he did. He has a killer instinct, I don’t. Stella doesn’t either, that’s why she’s going to lose. You should be ready for that, Effie.”

“We will see, won’t we?” she frowned, snatching her arm back from him. It was still throbbing but at least it wasn’t bleeding anymore. “I believe in her.”

“She will break your heart.” Hayden warned her.

That remark made her ponder how alike the two brothers truly were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

Chasing after sponsors was exhausting, Effie thought, fanning herself with her white glove. The sponsor lounge was stifling and she wasn’t sure how long she could bear the heat. Next to her, Hayden loosened his tie despite her mildly reproachful look.

“It’s no use.” he sighed, his eyes darting from the clutters of victors and escorts running from rich Capitol citizens to richer Capitol citizens, like bees around honey, to the screen on one of the wall. Finnick Odair was fishing bare-chested and Effie didn’t know what people liked more : the impressive set of skills displayed to catch fishes with algae woven nets or the partial nakedness. Considering he was only fourteen and most of the women present in that room were older than her, the thought was sickening.

“Now, now…” she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “It won’t do to lose hope. I have it on good authority that…”

The end of her sentence died on her lips when she spotted Haymitch entering the lounge. That was certainly a first since she had begun working for Twelve. She wasn’t the only one astonished, more than one victor and escort did a double take. Hayden followed her line of sight and didn’t even bother to mask his surprise.

“Are you lost?” he asked when Haymitch joined them.

Haymitch simply sneered at that before glancing at Effie’s arm. The flash of guilt was quick but she caught it all the same.

“I’m perfectly fine.” she offered even though he hadn’t asked. “I saw a doctor. It is nothing. They will even be able to erase the scar if it leaves one.”

He nodded but didn’t comment, turning to Hayden instead. “Mags is planning something.”

“What?” his brother frowned, suddenly more interested. “How do you know?”

“People talk.” Haymitch shrugged. “She asked for special permission to send something that isn’t on the usual list.”

Effie’s eyes scanned the room, trying to find Four’s mentor but the old woman was nowhere to be seen. Thinking of it, she wasn’t sure she had seen Mags all morning.

“Do you know what?” Hayden insisted.

“No. But it’s going to be a show.” Haymitch replied. “Whatever it is, the Games are done.”

“Of course, they’re not.” Effie huffed. “The odds…”

“Haven’t you figured out that the odds aren’t fair yet?” he snapped, annoyed, before glancing at his brother once again. “Whatever she’s sending, we’re done for. Better be prepared.”

Hayden’s face closed off. He nodded once and walked away without glancing back.

Effie started after him, distressed by the whole discussion, but Haymitch’s hand stopped her. He didn’t quite grab her arm but the touch was enough to make her pause all the same.

“Leave him.” Haymitch advised. “He got his hopes up, that’s a stupid mistake. _You_ got his hopes up and now it’s going to hit him hard.” 

“There is nothing wrong with hope.” she hissed back, careful to keep her voice low enough that no one would pick up on their conversation.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Haymitch snorted. “There is nothing worse than false hope. Now get your ass to the penthouse before that girl gets killed and you start bawling your eyes out in public.”

“I do _not_ ‘bawl my eyes out’, as you say.” she growled.

His smirk was very bitter and not the slightest bit amused. “’Could have fooled me.”

She did make her way to the penthouse if only to check on Hayden. She found him on the couch, nursing a drink – not the whiskey Haymitch favored but something softer, a blue cocktail of sort – his eyes riveted to the screen. She tried to get him back on tracks but he wouldn’t move and when the silver parachute floated down in the arena, attached to a golden… _thing_ that looked like a giant fork, he sighed like everything was definitely lost.

“What is that?” she asked, confused.

Caesar’s running commentary had been muted.

“A trident.” Hayden shook his head, choking on an incredulous laughter. “She sent a _fucking_ trident ! How are we supposed to compete against that?”

For one, Effie didn’t correct his language. She shared the sentiment.

The advantage of the trident soon became clear. Young Finnick threaded plants and algae together in nets and then he started a brand new kind of fishing.

Hayden remained glued to the couch, shaking his head and getting drunker by the second.

By the second kill, Effie was back in the sponsor lounge, desperately trying to gather some support for Stella.

When night fell and Finnick made camp, almost all the loners were gone except for Stella and the male tribute from Nine. Finnick’s plan was clear : kill the loners first and then tackle the Careers.

Effie went back to the penthouse dead on her feet, hoarse from too much pleading and her lips stiff from too much smiling. Hayden was slumped on the couch, still watching the live feed. She couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not because he didn’t say a word, even when she sat right next to him.

Nothing much ever happened at night but she kept worrying her hands, unable to suppress a bad feeling.

The Career pack attacked Finnick around three in the morning.

Haymitch joined them fifteen minutes later while the fight was raging on. He remained standing behind the couch, his hands clutching the white leather. His little finger was right behind Effie’s shoulder, it dug painfully in her skin but she didn’t protest, she needed the reminder that she wasn’t alone. Hayden poured himself another drink.

At half past three in the morning, Finnick finally escaped the Careers with nothing direr than a gash on his back. The pack was down to five.

The live-feed remained on them until the Gamemakers were sure the fight was over and then they announced that another tribute had died during the scuffle. Sure enough, Stella being bitten by a poisonous snake was nothing compared to the physical battle that had just taken place. The footage barely lasted a minute and a half.

“Was it quick?” Effie whispered.

“Yes.” Hayden said right when Haymitch said “No.”.

The oldest brother shrugged defensively. “No use lying to her.”

Hayden let out an irritated sigh and pushed on the armrest to get up. He swayed left and right but Effie didn’t reach out to help. Haymitch did. He grabbed his brother’s arm without a word and steered him in the direction of the bedrooms despite his initial protests that he didn’t need help.

She didn’t know how long she stayed on that couch, waiting for the tears that were refusing to fall but it was long enough that Haymitch looked surprised to find her still there when he came back. He was dressed for bed now, wearing only navy blue sweatpants, and he barely glanced at her on his way to the liquor cart.

“I liked her.” she murmured. “She was a nice girl.”

“They’re all nice.” Haymitch retorted. “You don’t win because you’re nice.”

“Hayden is nice.” she objected.

“Hayden didn’t win.” he spat but then he waved it off before she could ask what he meant by that exactly. “Next time, don’t get attached.”

“Will it be easier?” She stood up uncertainly, testing her legs but they weren’t shaking like they had when Sage died. She wasn’t out of breath or ready to burst into tears. She wasn’t anything at all. She felt strangely empty.

“Nope.” Haymitch chuckled. “But it won’t be personal.”

His back was turned on her, he was pouring himself a drink. Unlike his chest, the skin on his back was unmarked. The only scar she could see was a tiny one under his shoulder blade. She didn’t know what possessed her to reach out and trace it with the tip of her fingers but he tensed under her touch.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounded strange, rough and low at the same time. Not the usual grumbling she had come to expect.

Truth be told, she didn’t know what she was doing. She placed both hands on his hips, her thumbs exploring the tanned skin.

“I’m _hollow_.” she explained tentatively. “I want to feel something…”

His shoulders sagged and his head shot back when he downed his glass in one go. “No, sweetheart.”

“Why?” she frowned, snatching her hands away. “You certainly were very clear about wanting me in your bed since the very first day. You kept propositioning me.”

And he had a reputation after all. He _never_ said no to any willing woman…

On the bright side, she thought, she certainly felt _something_ now. Reject was never something she could face easily. She didn’t enjoy being mortified.

“You’re nice, Trinket.” he declared, keeping his back on her. He didn’t even have the decency to look at her in the eyes and that infuriated her. “That’s why.”

She shook her head and swallowed despite the lump in her throat. “Hayden is right. Hurting people is all you ever do.”

She didn’t wait to see the effect her words would have. She grabbed her purse and headed out. She didn’t know _where_ exactly she was going but she just knew she needed to get _out_. The penthouse was making her feel claustrophobic.

She found her way to her favorite club instinctively, joined a group of friends who were all happy to see her and faked momentarily sadness at Twelve’s loss only to tease her mercilessly later about the lack of skills of her tributes, gossip about the sex scandals surrounding one of her victor and the placidness of the other. And all the while, Effie laughed with them and smiled at their taunts. She drank and danced and drank some more until the nausea she felt could have a rational explanation. She flirted and danced with Capitol men who were all desperate to take her for a spin on the dance floor as was the norm for her. She pretended to be happy.

She thought if she pretended hard enough, it might become true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more Haymitch in this one ;) I’m sorry, I know there is not a lot of hayffie yet but it is coming, do not worry. I plan it to be a slow-built, we’re in it for the long haul so I hope you're not afraid of long stories. Let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

Life was an endless pointless torture, Effie mused, munching on a piece of toast without much gusto or any of her usual poise.

She glanced at Hayden over the – late – breakfast table, he looked back over the rim of his cup of coffee, looking just as miserable as she felt. He forced a commiserating smile and she answered in kind.

Hangovers were _never_ fun.

“Good morning, sunshines!” Haymitch boomed, walking in with uncharacteristic energy. He ignored the double groan of pain and slid a red folder over the table right next to her. “A little late, are you?” he mocked. “I did the paperwork. You can thank me later, Trinket.”

She swiped her hands on her napkin and lifted the folder’s cover to find the receipt of the necessary paperwork following tributes’ death.

“That’s… suspiciously nice of you.” she frowned. “What did you do that needs forgiving?”

He stared at her for a second too long and her cheeks flushed crimson when she remembered the previous night. Of course, remembering her embarrassing – and admittedly feeble – attempts at seducing him only made her remember _why_ she had been acting that way in the first place and she lowered her eyes, feeling gloomy again. That poor Stella… She placed her piece of toast down, not at all hungry anymore.

“Anyway… Since both of you have been so busy getting wasted, you may have missed it but we’re down to three tributes.” Haymitch continued, speaking entirely too loud on purpose. “The Games will be over before tonight, probably.”

“Do you have to shout?” Hayden grumbled in his coffee. “When do I go back to Twelve? You arranged for the bodies to be send back, yes?”

“The crowning will be mandatory this year.” Haymitch replied. “Sorry, bro.”

“Why?” Hayden frowned. “It never is…”

Effie watched Haymitch too, taken aback by his announcement. The crowning was always attended by some victors – usually the most popular ones or those who, like Haymitch, lingered for some weeks in the Capitol after the end of the Games – but she had never heard it said that victors were _forced_ to stay in the city for it. Most of them, she knew, liked to escort the coffins back to their District at the earliest available opportunity. She could understand that. The idea that Stella’s and Sarge’s bodies would make that journey alone…

“’Can’t say.” Haymitch shrugged. “Odair isn’t in a bad shape. Cheer up, you will be home in a few days.”

There was a firm scowl on Hayden’s face as he plucked a piece of his toast and rubbed it between two of his fingers until nothing was left but crumbs. He wasn’t pleased at staying, Effie surmised.

“You’re so sure that boy will win…” Effie ventured. “You said there are three tributes left…”

“Sweetheart, I _know_ that boy will win.” Haymitch snorted. “He’s pretty, he’s clever and he will be the youngest victor ever. _One of a kind_.” He rolled his eyes.

She thought she detected disgust in his voice but she wasn’t sure. Hayden must have heard it too though because he looked at his brother with something akin to amusement.

“Afraid he will steal your spotlight?” Hayden taunted.

Something flashed on Haymitch’s face. It was quick and she was certain she was mistaken because of her hangover but it looked like hope mixed with guilt. He didn’t bother answering his brother’s teasing, he turned to Effie with one of those charming smiles that, she was beginning to suspect, were all fake.

“I’m going out.” he told her. “Won’t be back ‘till tonight and I will try not to get drunk.”

“Good.” she replied distractedly.

He nodded at Hayden and then walked out of the room, hands deep in his pockets and shoulders slightly slouched. Effie bit back a comment about proper posture. Something was nagging at the back of her mind and she stood up, startling Hayden who was starting to fall back asleep in his cup of coffee. She served him a half-cooked excuse and hurried after his brother, intending to catch him before he left the penthouse.

She shouldn’t have worried, he was still in the hall. He glanced up when she approached and pocketed one of those mysterious grey envelopes.

“What?” he grumbled. “I did more than my part today.”

“I want to apologize.” she said plainly and without flourish. Somehow, she doubted he would have appreciated it. “What I did last night was untoward of me, not to mention really embarrassing and…”

“You were upset.” he cut her off. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.” she argued. “And interrupting people is very rude by the way but never mind that. I really need to apologize. It won’t happen again.”

He waved her excuses away before shaking his head with obvious amusement. “You’re something else, aren’t you, Trinket?”

She didn’t know what he meant by that but she _did_ know he was mocking her.

His smirk grew tight. “Never mind, sweetheart. I’m used to it.”

She was sure he was aiming for cocky but somehow, it ended up sounding vulnerable. She had no clue as to why. She frowned a little but with a wink he was gone, leaving her to stand there, in the middle of the hall, like an idiot. Poor show of manners, that.

“Effie?” Hayden called from the dining room threshold, uncertain.

She plastered a smile on her lips and a cheery expression on her face, pushing aside the mystery that was Haymitch Abernathy.

Hayden looked hesitant, openly fragile in a way his brother would never allow himself to be. “I need to know if you plan on staying next year. If you do… We need to start planning.”

“Of course, I plan on staying.” she replied more cheerfully than she felt. “Where would I go?”

Relief flashed on Hayden’s face. His smile was carefree and almost boyish.

“Good.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it briefly. “I’m glad to hear it. I like working with you.”

Her own smile became more genuine. “I do too. I just _know_ we will have more chances next year.”

She had hoped to cheer him up but instead of brightening and sharing her optimism, Hayden’s grin faded away.

“Effie, we will never win.” he said, very flatly.

She refused to hear it.

“See?” she joked. “That is _why_ you need me in your team. You and your brother aren’t dreaming big enough.”

And she was an expert in reaching impossible odds.

Hayden shook his head at her, partly amused and partly sorry at her innocence, but changed topic. They ended up on the living-room couch, studying available stylists for the following year. The problem wasn’t a lack of choice but rather the certainty none of them would volunteer to work for Twelve. Effie had worked as a model long enough to have contacts though and she vowed to find someone suitable, no matter how many favors it would cost her.

All the while the TV remained on, the sound muted.

Haymitch’s prediction was right.

At around eight in the evening, Finnick Odair lifted his trident to the sky in a victorious gesture, his last opponent dead at his feet.

That was when Hayden was requested to get available for interview purposes. There were the pieces about losing Districts – Effie was required to attend and she did her best to answer Caesar’s questions cheerfully, knowing possible sponsors were watching – and the pieces designed to distract the viewers until their latest victor could be produced to the camera. If experience served, it would take a few days.

Twelve’s official post-Games interview lasted for the best part of fifteen minutes – ten of which were spent mocking their District despite her best attempts at bringing the conversation back on track. Hayden had more or less given up, forcing a smile that looked more like a sneer at each attack, and it became Effie’s job to be witty, bubbly and, in short, attractive enough that people would learn to _like_ Twelve.

“That was a disaster.” she declared, once they stepped out of the studio.

“Sorry.” Hayden mumbled, not sounding sorry at all.

Later that night, as she was jotting down notes about how to alter their strategy for the best the following year, a late talk-show came up on TV. Hayden had gone to bed a few minutes earlier thus he was spared the sight of his brother – wearing smart pants and a grey shirt open at the collar that were by far too casual for public appearances – laughing off some crude comments and questions about his latest conquest.

She placed her pen down thoughtfully and turned the volume up a bit, fascinated.

The interview content was of no consequence at all. It wasn’t what she was interested in.

She was starting to get why sponsors liked Haymitch better. Hayden, as lovable as he was in private, was stern and tensed on camera. His answers to interviewers were flat, he was too prone to get insulted on their District behalf… Haymitch, on the contrary, had _a gift_.

The verbal fencing with the host was entertaining without coming out as confrontational. When he didn’t like a question, he either laughed it off or turned it into a joke. He never showed irritation, he laughed at himself, he played it as if it was all a game… In short, he was charming.

And that was what Twelve needed.

The following day, Finnick Odair was still not out of the Games clinic and the Capitol was getting restless.

Even up in the penthouse, they could hear the crowd in the streets chanting the name of District Four’s new victor. Everyone was in a frenzy over him. People were crying in front of the compound, others came with flowers, posters of him, candles, jewels, gifts… They trampled on each other, fights erupted… Peacekeepers had their job cut out for them.

The Head Gamemakers issued a statement that all victors and escorts were to remain in the building. They were afraid of what would happen to anyone related to the Games that would be caught in that madness. It suited Effie just fine because it meant they needed more interviews to occupy people on TV and that meant a larger airing time than Twelve usually got.

Problem was: Haymitch and Hayden were obviously not used to be cooped up in the same room for so long. Effie had to break up at least two fights and it wasn’t even noon yet. Her suggestions that Haymitch popped down to Eleven’s floor for a visit went ignored.

“They’re going to rip him to shreds when he finally comes out.” Hayden commented, from the armchair, as they watched the news on TV. The journalists were calling for Capitol people to, _please_ , not crowd the streets surrounding the Training Center but it was to no avail.

Never in the history of the Hunger Games a tributes had unleashed such reactions.

It made Effie slightly uneasy. The boy was only fourteen… She knew Stella would have been frightened to death if… She didn’t let herself go down that road.

“’Don’t think they will let him go outside on his own.” Haymitch replied, taking a sip of his whiskey. “They will keep their golden boy _very_ safe, trust me.” He muttered something about losing money but Hayden didn’t hear and Effie didn’t remark on it, used to Haymitch’s cryptic comments by now.

“How’s he anyway?” Hayden frowned. “What’s taking so long? He had a gash on his back, it can’t take that long to stitch him up…”

“Mags says he’s dehydrated.” the senior victor shrugged. “That’s the official story. Don’t know more.”

“I heard on the escort grapevine he’s… out of sort.” Effie cut in.

“Everyone’s out of sort after they won, sweetheart.” Haymitch snorted. “That’s what happens when you have blood on your hands.”

“Adjusting back to normal life can be difficult.” Hayden nodded.

“And what would _you_ know about that?” his brother snapped.

The tension raised a notch and Effie was glad for the shrill ringing of the phone. She didn’t have time to get up, Hayden stood and picked up before she could.

“Was that necessary?” Effie hissed at Haymitch.

His grey eyes twinkled with amusement. It went in par with the sneer on his lips. “You’re a cute bodyguard, Princess, but I promise you he doesn’t need you.”

“Effie, they want you and me downstairs for an interview.” Hayden announced, hanging up.

“Did they specify that they wanted you by name or do they simply need a victor to represent Twelve?” she asked.

Clearly, it was an odd question because both men frowned, looking at her as if she was crazy.

“I always do the Games related interviews…” Hayden said.

“Yes…” she trailed off. “But…” How could she word this? “Please, don’t take it the wrong way, Hayden, but Haymitch handles interviews better.”

There was a short silence.

“I don’t do Games related interviews.” Haymitch protested just when Hayden exclaimed : “He doesn’t’ even know the tributes’ names!”

That attack prompted Haymitch to glare at his brother. “Just because I don’t walk around Twelve with a kicked puppy face, acting like it’s all my lazy brother’s fault if we never bring kids back, doesn’t mean I don’t know their names.”

“Say that again?” Hayden challenged, his hands clenching into fists.

“Would you both behave like adults?!” Effie snapped, pressing a preventive hand against Haymitch’s shoulder – she just knew if he stood up, it would escalate. She turned to a Hayden with a stern expression. “Listen, I _am_ sorry but I am only thinking of what is best for Twelve’s image. If we can get people interested in us, then next year we could…”

“And I’m not interesting enough, is that it?” Hayden interrupted her.

“You don’t enjoy interviews, Hayden.” she sighed. “You take everything they say to heart, you… You don’t play the game!”

It was the wrong thing to say, she knew it at once.

“No…” he admitted, in a pained voice. “I just hide until it’s over.”

She tried to hold him back but Haymitch grabbed her arm before she could follow him to his room.

“Let him calm down on his own. He will come out in an hour or two.” he advised. “He’s been like that since he was five. Temper tantrums.”

“Oh, and you’re a stranger to temper tantrums?” she mocked. “Your mother must truly be _a saint_. Change your shirt, I won’t have you going on national TV with lipstick stains on your collar. I’m surprised you found the time.”

That lipstick stain had been annoying her ever since he had showed up. How he even managed to get it given that the building was on lockdown was anyone’s guess. Perhaps Celesta Vane was inventive, perhaps he knew a way out.

“Jealous?” he teased.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he wisely chose to obey her orders.

Half an hour later, they were on live television.

They stayed longer than they were scheduled for. Caesar was just delighted by their banter and Effie’s offended glaring when he asked if she wasn’t afraid of succumbing to Haymitch’s charm.

Hayden sulked _much longer_ than a single hour.

She wondered if it was because he viewed her choice to replace him with Haymitch as a betrayal or because she and Haymitch made such a good duo Caesar promised to invite them again.  

 


	11. Chapter 11

It was her first crowning party _ever_ and Effie wasn’t enjoying it all that much.

The crowning in itself had been pleasant if stiffing hot – at some point, Haymitch had confiscated her feathers fan because she kept accidentally hitting him with it – she had been looking forward to the exclusive party that always took place afterwards. Everything was sea-themed, as a tribute to the poor teenage boy who looked positively lost in the flood of admirers. Until she had actually seen him at the crowning, Effie had secretly held a grudge in the safety of her own mind because he was neither Stella nor Sage but that disappeared quickly when she saw the efforts he was making to keep on smiling.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Hayden whispered, following her line of sight. He handed her a glass of iced _something_ – the cocktail was blue of course, like mostly everything else that evening – she was only too grateful to accept. He was her official “date” for the evening but he was still acting somehow frosty ever since she had asked Haymitch to step in for interviews. If he noticed her momentary hesitation, he didn’t let on, continuing his observations. “He’s lost for now but wait a week and he will be as cocky as some of the other victors. I can see my brother in him, you know. I bet you what you want that he will have women hanging from his arms in no time.”

“He’s _fourteen_.” she protested, taking a sip of the cocktail to collect herself.

As sick as it was, she had seen more than one person looking at the boy with open interest regardless of his age. It made her want to throw up. She hoped Mags would keep an eye on him but given the way the old woman was watching him like a hawk, Effie sensed it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Exactly.” Hayden chuckled. “At fourteen, all I could think about was May Frain’s breasts.”

“Who’s May Frain?” she asked, amused.

“A girl who used to be in my class.” he shrugged with an impish grin. “Red hair. Very, _very_ pretty. I was quite in love with her.”

“And?” she pressed, curious about the rest of the story.

“And she didn’t even know I existed until I was Reaped. She was nicer after that.” he explained. “We… went out a few times until it got serious. I wanted to ask her to marry me, you know.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows shot up. That _was_ pretty serious. Effie was a bit envious. She had never felt like that for anyone in her whole life. She had had her share of long relationships but never one that made her want to settle or commit more than leaving a toothbrush at her boyfriend’s place. It disappointed her mother, of course, and left her to endure long hours of “what did I do wrong with you? Why can’t you be more like your sister?” but she refused to marry for money or fame. Effie was determined to get her own money and her own fame and not live through the success of a rich husband. “What happened?”

“What always happens.” Hayden snorted bitterly. “Haymitch slept with her.”

For some reason, that shocked her.

“How… _vile_!” she stuttered, unable to imagine how heartless Haymitch would have to be to do something like that when his brother had so obviously been in love.

“To be fair, she was quite the Gold Digger.” he replied. “She married the grocer. Good business, you know?”

“Still.” she insisted. “Is he in a habit of doing that?”

“You saw him, no?” He nodded to his brother who was on the dance floor, making his date twirl. The woman wasn’t Celesta Vane and Effie had been wondering what had happened ever since he had showed up with the stranger on his arm instead of the old actress. She was wearing an expensive blue dress, a see-green wig and she looked more interested in Finnick than in Haymitch which hadn’t prevented her from dragging Twelve’s victor to dance. Haymitch looked downright uncomfortable.

Effie couldn’t tell who the woman was and she knew the face of everyone in the famous circles.

“He can’t stop himself.” Hayden went on, a touch of disgust in his voice. “He’s a pig.”

_You don’t tell Hayden about the appointments. Let him think I’m a pig, you get it?_

Haymitch’s words echoed in her mind for several seconds until she chased them away, dismissing the sudden idea as ridiculous. Preposterous, even.

“Are you ever going to ask me to dance?” she asked Hayden.

His grin was boyish when he lead her to the dance floor, her hand safely clasped in his. They drew gazes and whispered comments but Effie didn’t mind. Hayden was handsome and she was beautiful, people tended to stare at beauty.

“About the other day…” he said, after almost a minute of swaying to the light music. “I’m sorry if I reacted badly. I know you’re only trying to do the best for Twelve and I’m grateful for that. We never had an escort I can actually _work_ with, you know? When they weren’t fooling around with Haymitch, they were more busy getting a manicure than helping me.”

“Well, I promise I will get my manicure _before_ the Games.” she joked. He laughed and she felt lighter. Being at odds with him hadn’t settled right with her. “I apologize if I offended you. You are very good at mentoring, Hayden, but I do think public appearances are more Haymitch’s area. Now if we could bring him on board…”

“That will happen when pigs learn to fly.” he warned her. “You’ve worked miracles with him already. He actually _tried_ this year.”

“I haven’t quite given up on him.” She flashed him a grin. “I am a stubborn person.”

“So is he.” he snorted. “Be careful not to get swept in, though. You said it, my brother knows how to play games. I don’t want you to get hurt in the process.”

“I am quite a player too, you know.” she laughed. “Don’t dismiss me yet. I will get him to work for Twelve eventually.”

Hayden’s face was cautious as he made her twirl under his arm. “Not quite what I mean, Effie.”

She chose not to ponder that thought further, forcing herself to enjoy the party. Hayden followed her like a second shadow and once she got two or three drinks into him, he started to relax and have fun. They laughed, they danced, she introduced him to her friends and, all in all, they had a delightful evening. They didn’t manage to get close enough to Finnick Odair to form an opinion on him but neither of them particularly tried either, the crowd around him was already too thick and the boy looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

When they stumbled back in the penthouse, dawn was trickling through the windows and they were completely smashed – or, at least, Effie was. Hayden tripped in the corridor leading to the bedrooms and bumped right into her, causing them to dissolve into mad laughter. How she ended up with her back against the wall and him pressed against her, she didn’t know. Giggles and chuckles slowly died as their breaths mingled.

He wanted to kiss her, she read it in his grey eyes.

If he had been anyone else, she would have let him. She had had one night-stands with friends before and it had never caused any problems but she instinctively knew someone like Hayden wouldn’t regard it in the same vein. She also knew the situation was problematic enough without adding complications.

 _And, perhaps_ , a little voice at the back of her mind whispered, _it wasn’t the right pair of grey eyes_.  

The awkwardness sobered her up in time to avert her face when he leaned in.

“No.” she said very firmly. “We have a professional relationship. We can be friends but not anything else. I don’t sleep with people I work with.”

“What if I fire you?” he joked but there was a hint of seriousness in there and it made her frown.

“Not even then.” she offered calmly. “We’re friends.”

He accepted it with resignation and a touch of regrets but he shrugged it off. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“No.” she grinned. “I can’t.”

He laughed and she hoped he would still feel like laughing about it the next day. She hated when that kind of situation turned awkward.

He either forgot everything about it due to a very pronounced hangover or he chose to pretend it never happened because the following day, there was no talk whatsoever about it. It suited Effie just fine, she went along with the charade.

When time came for him to go back to Twelve, she went to the train station with him. The sight of the coffins they were loading on the train made her stomach churn. She wanted to go over to them, lay a hand on the gleaming wood maybe, say goodbye… She could only stand there and stare until they were gone.

“Let their parents know if there is anything I can do to help…” she whispered.

“I will.” he promised. He shuffled on his feet like a shy child. “Look, I want to say thank you… You were truly great and…”

“As nice as it is to hear, you don’t need to keep saying it, you know.” she replied gently. “I am happy to work with you. Twelve isn’t the most glorious District to escort, true, but it was a pleasure to get to know you, Hayden, I truly mean it.”

“I don’t have a lot of friends.” he winced.

She found that hard to believe. He was a nice man, a good-looking one too… Yet he had to perpetually live in his brother’s shadow and that couldn’t be easy when said brother was such an _ass_.

“Well, you have me now.” she stated. Following an impulse, she hugged him – still making sure to keep it friendly. “I will see you next year.”

“Yes.” he grinned. “Don’t let Haymitch chase you away. Are you still staying at the penthouse? You don’t have to do that now that the Games are over. He’s not your responsibility anymore.”

“He’s Twelve’s victor, I’m Twelve’s escort.” she sighed. “He’s very much my responsibility. Unfortunately.”

“It’s good to know people love me.” a voice mocked, coming out of nowhere.

She jumped, clutching her heart in fright. “Haymitch!”

The senior victor rolled his eyes.

“You wouldn’t survive two minutes in an arena.” he spat, before turning to Hayden. “You say hello to Mama, yeah?”

“She will want to know when you’re coming back.” Hayden replied, slightly reproachful. “You didn’t have your fill yet?”

“Don’t start a fight when you’re leaving, baby brother.” Haymitch chided him. “You never know…”

Hayden didn’t look repentant. “I know Mama will worry.”

“That’s all she ever does.” Haymitch sighed and, for a second, Effie was sure Hayden was about to pick a fight over the issue regardless of his brother’s wishes but, in the end, he simply outstretched a hand.

“Don’t stay too long.” Hayden said just as Haymitch was clasping his hand. Instead of shaking it, he pulled his brother into a bear hug and ruffled his hair despite Hayden’s shrieks of protest.

It was the first time Effie had ever seen them so close. It figured they were acting like proper brothers just when they were about to be separated, she thought.

Hayden finally boarded the train with a last mock glare for Haymitch and a smile for her. She waved at him until the train left the station, then she turned to her only remaining victor on hand.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” she remarked.

“He’s my baby brother.” he replied as if it was explanation enough.

Somehow, it was.

Choosing to remain in the penthouse as long as Haymitch would stay in the Capitol was calculated on Effie’s part, she hoped to finally manage to use him to get sponsors – or, at the very least, _contacts_. Her schemes were void though because she could as well have lived there alone for all she saw him.

Two weeks after the crowning ceremony, their paths had crossed four times in the penthouse itself and five times at various parties. He came and went at odd hours, left empty bottles in the living-room and, despite everything she had to say about it, made the front page of magazines more than once because of his one night-stands with famous women.

She had come to expect the penthouse to be empty.

It was the reason why, that night, she was so shocked to find herself face to face with the truth about those _special appointments_ of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I hear you screaming in the distance : next to no Haymitch. So, good news : next week will change everything and there will definitely be more Haymitch after that ;)
> 
> I know it can be seen as frustrating but I really wanted a chance to introduce Hayden through a – *cough* virgin *cough* – gaze and Effie was the ideal way to do that since she didn't know either brothers before.
> 
> So next week get ready for Effie to find out the truth and let the long story truly begin =)
> 
> I hope you like it and please let me know!


	12. Chapter 12

The second Effie walked out of the elevator, all she wanted to do was turn back.

The _Special Appointment_ was a head shorter than her, wearing a polka dot dress with a bright scarlet wig and fake eyelashes that looked like spider webs. Haymitch was standing right behind her, clad in nothing but navy blue boxers, teeth marks all over his chest.

“You’re a busy bee tonight, Haymitch.” the woman laughed when she saw Effie. A mere glance, that was all the stranger gave her, her pink eyes – contacts or possibly plastic surgery – glided over her as if she wasn’t even there. Effie was about to start raging but what the woman did next stopped her right in her tracks : she took some notes out of her purse and slipped them in the waistband of Haymitch’s shorts. “You earned them.” She kissed his cheek and walked right in the elevator, but not without giving Effie another dismissive look. “He’s all yours, honey.”

Effie’s jaw was hanging open in a less than ladylike manner and Haymitch wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“What was _that_ about?” she asked.

“You need to ask?” he snorted, turning away from her.

If he expected her to let the matter go, he was mistaken. She hurried after him.

“Why is she giving you money, Haymitch?” she insisted. “How did you _earn_ it exactly? And what was she talking about? What is going on?”

He was ignoring her, going straight for his room and that annoyed her. She grabbed his arm. He flinched. She snatched her hand away as if the contact had burned her.

“What is going on?” she repeated in a low pained whisper.

She didn’t want to know.

She was _very_ sure she didn’t want to know.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he scowled. “You need me to spell it for you?”

_You don’t tell Hayden about the appointments. Let him think I’m a pig, you get it?_

“Why would you need to do that for money? Why would you need _money_ , you’re a victor!” she gasped but just as soon as it was out, she remembered the grey envelopes… How adamant he was that Hayden never get one… _It’s all hush-hush, you see_ , Livia had said. Haymitch wasn’t an isolated case either… The way the victors from Six had cringed when she had asked about special appointments… “Oh my god…”

“I think you need some fresh air.” Haymitch said, very calmly.

He hadn’t opened his mouth while she was having her little epiphany. He hadn’t mocked or taunted. That, alone, let her know how _serious_ it was.

“Fresh… Fresh air?” she stammered. “I don’t want fresh air! I want to know what’s going on! Why… Who… We need to report this! We need to…”

_Sweetheart, President Snow and I have a deal…_

_No, no, no_ , her mind refused to compute it.

“Oh my…” she breathed out again, utterly shocked and disgusted.

“Fresh air. _Now_.” Haymitch growled, giving her a shake. She hadn’t even noticed he had taken a hold of her arm. “Go to the roof.”

She blinked at him. Her head was spinning with too much information, her stomach was in knots… “The roof?”

“Are you done playing parrot?” he spat. “Go to the roof. I’m coming, I want to take a shower first.”

She felt numb and lost, so lost that when he nudged her in the direction of the door leading to the roof, she simply made her way up there. She had never checked it out before even though it was only accessible through the penthouse and, as such, reserved to Twelve’s use. It could use a little decoration, she thought distractedly, a bench or somewhere to sit. She didn’t dare go near the edge but she didn’t think she could stand on her wobbly legs for much longer either so in the end, she sat with her back to the wall, wondering if dust would leave stains on her pink silk dress, not able to bring herself to care if it did.

It must have been the quickest shower in history because Haymitch showed up around ten minutes later, fully dressed, with a bottle and an empty glass. He sat next to her but not close enough to touch. She simply took the glass when it was handed and watched him pour her an indecent amount of whiskey.

She hated whiskey.

“Feeling better?” It was mocking and bitter.

She downed half the glass in one go. It only increased her nausea.

“I don’t understand.” she whispered. “This is some sort of mistake… Or… Or a _joke_ …”

“Sure.” he hissed. “I love letting women old enough to be my mother fuck me as a joke.”

It was her turn to flinch. Her eyes were burning with the need to cry but she didn’t even know why exactly she felt like that.

“First rule.” he declared when she didn’t answer. “Always assume they’re listening. You’re part of the Games now, sweetheart, that means they will watch you. You would be surprised how many Capitol drones like yourself turn on them after a while… Can’t stomach their own atrocities, poor things.”

She ignored the biting sarcasms to focus on the main part. “Listening? What do you mean? There is no one but us in the penthouse…”

He studied her over the rim of his bottle. She got the distinct impression he was trying to evaluate how much he wanted to bother with her.

“Bugs.” he explained at last. “Cameras sometimes. They’re everywhere in the city. That’s rule number two for you : never criticize the Games or Snow indoors. Rule number three: trust no one.”

“You’re paranoid.” she breathed out, lifting the glass to her lips. Her hand was shaking so much she almost spilled it.

“That’s how the game is played.” he replied. “And it’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you.”

“I’m not interested in your games.” she spat, wondering why she even was there. Why was she listening? Obviously there had been some mistake… Some…

“Then you shouldn’t have become an escort.” he scoffed. His grey eyes were shining with intent now, he gulped down some more liquor, almost absent-mindedly. “Now… We need to talk about Hayden.”

“Hayden doesn’t do… _this_.” she defended her friend at once. She had spent most of her time with him ever since the Reaping, she would have noticed. And he wasn’t the kind. He wasn’t…

“No.” Haymitch confirmed. “And he won’t find out either. That’s our deal, remember?” He searched her eyes for a second and then looked away altogether. “If you want to change the terms of the deal now that you know what you can get…”

“I don’t want _that_.” she cried out, outraged.

She instinctively raised the glass again, then she put it down. She could feel the perspiration on her forehead. The nausea was getting worse and worse.

“Okay.” Haymitch said, very flatly.

“Why do you do it?” she asked. “Why do you… It can’t be for the money. You don’t need the money. You’re a victor.”

“What, you want the sorry little tale now?” he snarled.

“I want to know.” she retorted. “I want to know why a man who doesn’t need money would… would… would _sell_ _himself_ to strangers.” The words were hard to sputter. They came out harsh and judgmental and she was sorry for it because he looked like a caged animal.

“I don’t _sell myself_ , Princess. I’m _being sold_.” he growled. “If you think I can pick and choose…”

“By whom?” she interrupted before he could launch in one of those bitter insulting rants he was prone to.

“Take a guess.” he chuckled.

_Sweetheart, President Snow and I have a deal…_

“No.” she countered. “The President can’t know about this. It’s… It’s an internal network… It must be and if he knew he would put an end to it. You need to go to President Snow, Haymitch. You need to tell him. He will stop it, I know he will.”

She reached out a hand in her plea and he stared at it for the longest time before starting to laugh. It was a genuine laugh, something rough and low like the far rumble of a lightning storm. It wasn’t truly mocking. When he looked at her next, there was pity in his grey eyes.

“Is that what they teach you at your Capitol schools?” he taunted. “Snow will come and save you?”

“He’s a good man.” She frowned, almost offended on the President’s behalf. “He saved us all during the Dark Days. He is Panem’s only hope and greatest glory. He…”

“Save me the propaganda. I don’t need the brainwashing.” he cut her off. The liquor splashed audibly against the glass when he took an angry mouthful. His fingers were shaking, she noticed. “He killed my girl.”

His words were followed by silence. She didn’t know how to answer that.

Obviously, Haymitch was misguided. Obviously, someone had played tricks on him. Obviously, he…

“Remember how I won the Games, Trinket?” he asked.

She nodded.

Everyone remembered the Quell. The impossible odds, made worse in Twelve’s case by the fact that the Careers were so much more deadly that year… Haymitch had been so clever from the start…

“You used the limits of the arena against your opponent.” she recalled because he seemed to be expecting some kind of verbal answer from her. “The… What was it? An axe? A sword? It rebounded on the force field and killed her.”

“Axe.” he mumbled, pressing a hand against his side, right at the spot she knew the big swollen scar laid. “I wasn’t out of the hospital for two days that Snow had me called in his office. Very cozy place for a tyrant, by the way. Anyway… He told me defying the Capitol couldn’t go unpunished. Remember when I told you there were cameras everywhere? I got to watch from his office while my girl was executed in Twelve for poaching. You get whipped for poaching, you don’t get executed. That was my punishment and everybody in Twelve knows it.”

Effie remained silent. Her hands were shaking so much she sat on them to keep them still. It seemed like another world… Poaching… Whipping… Executions… The words swirled in her mind…

“So then, before I can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his _fucking_ golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” he continued, almost detached. His tale was punctuated by the occasional swallowing of liquor but otherwise, he stared right ahead. She wasn’t sure he even knew she was there anymore. “Either I play nice like all the other victors or he will kill my family. I could either become his puppet – greatest punishment he could give me, according to him – or I could become the example. To put it simply : he had me by the balls. Quite literally.”

He snorted at that as if it was the best joke ever.

He was drunk, she mused, he must have been. He didn’t know what he was saying.

“Haymitch, we’re in the Capitol. We’re in a _civilized_ part of the country.” she said cautiously. “This doesn’t happen here. I’m sure you misunderstood. I’m sure…”

“Trust me, there is no misunderstanding a bullet in the head.” he lashed out. “Ask my girl.”

She rubbed a hand against her face, past caring about her make-up.

“Even if that part is true…” she sighed after a few seconds.

“I refused to be sold like a dog.” he spat. “Five years, I refused. Then, out of the blue, Hayden was Reaped.”

“Coincidence.” She was out of breath for some reason and it came out more like a whimper than an actual argument.

“Sure, it was.” Haymitch humored her, toasting her with the bottle. “Anyway, that’s why I do it, to protect my family. I don’t care for money. I have too much of that. And now I need you to keep the secret. It’s in your own interest too, ‘cause if they ever learn the truth from your mouth, I will strangle you with my bare hands.”    

The threat was made to frighten her but it bounced off her completely.

Everything was too much. What he claimed happened to that girl of his… The threat on his family… Hayden… The forced prostitution of some victors…

“I don’t believe it.” she whispered at last.

He didn’t look surprised. “What part?”

“All of it. _Any_ of it.” she replied, scrambling up to her feet and edging away from him. “This is all a lie. The Capitol isn’t like that. President Snow isn’t like that.”

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he cackled. “Truth’s a little hard to swallow?”

“You’re a sick man.” she declared. “I believe you believe in what you’re saying but none of it is true, Haymitch. _None of it_. You need help.”

He watched her with obvious amusement, not even bringing out the proofs she couldn’t deny like the grey envelopes. His eyes were mocking, as if he knew she would have no choice but to accept his words eventually, as if he knew he had destroyed her life and enjoyed it immensely.

She ran away.

Was there another sensible thing to do?

She gathered her things, packed her suitcase and went back to her apartment as soon as she was able.

She was careful not to meet Haymitch’s path again until he finally went back to Twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really means a lot to me because it's a key point in the story and I hope I did it justice. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> (and for those who are interested, I am going to publish a new hayffie story starting on Sunday called Memory Lane)


	13. Chapter 13

Winter was Haymitch’s favorite season.

When it was doused in a heavy coat of snow, Victors’ Village didn’t look so gloomy and he could actually pretend it was a nice place instead of a graveyard of empty houses. It was better than the Seam certainly but he still regretted the two rooms shack they used to live in when he was a child. There were no luxuries at that time but, at least, they were free. Or he was, rather.

The snow was reaching his ankles and he had to stomp all the way to the pen with the bag of grains slumped on his back. He didn’t mind the work, it occupied his mind. He had to find distractions since he couldn’t very well waste all his days in the bottom of a bottle – oh, he _would_ if he could but his mother would have his ass on a plate or, worse, she would look at him with open disappointment and he couldn’t bear that; he could barely bear when she shook her head at his retreating back after they had the same talk for the thousandth time about him settling down instead of fooling around with so many women. Getting the sex talk when he was thirteen had been embarrassing enough but hearing it every year was getting annoying. He didn’t know how long it would take before he snapped if his mother asked him again if, at least, he was practicing safe sex. He was thirty-one going on thirty-two. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect she would cut him a break on the subject.

The geese greeted him with loud honking and a lot of angry quacking at his lateness. He tossed the grains in the pen without much care, watching for a while as the birds bickered over a crumb or another piece of vegetable peel. They had been Hayden’s idea. He had begged for them when he was younger, argued they could make a business out of them even if they didn’t need to now that Haymitch was entitled to a monthly allowance. He could still see the twelve years old pleading with him at the market for one of the birds, swearing he would take good care of it and do everything himself… Haymitch had given in, of course, because he would have done anything to make his little brother happy.

Hayden’s enthusiasm for the birds had lasted two years. At fourteen, he had found new pressing occupations in the form of girls and dangerous excursions beyond the electrified fences. Haymitch hadn’t liked it when he went to the woods without him but boys would be boys and the attraction of a forbidden outing with his friends was much stronger than an afternoon watching Haymitch flinch at every loud noise, plagued with flashbacks of an arena that looked nothing like the woods. At the time, he had been terrified Hayden would be caught and that they would use the same poaching excuse they had used for Mabel. Of course, they had found worse for him…

Haymitch had taken to look after the birds because they gave him an excuse to get some time alone and away from the crowded house – he loved his family more than anything else but, truly, there was no time to catch a breath from their more or less well hidden disappointment. Now that Hayden was getting money every month too, they needed the geese business even less. Haymitch almost never sold the birds anyway, he would have denied it but truth was he liked his pets. Sometimes, he gave one away for a ridiculous price to some kids who had come begging. He would have done more but nobody in the Seam would accept charity, least of all coming from him.

His reputation in Twelve was such, people avoided him as much as they could. It suited him just fine. He went out when he had business at the Hobb – usually when the nightmares got too bad or Hayden and his mother too annoying, he felt the need for a bottle or two to get through it – but spent the rest of the time haunting the empty streets of the Village.

Eventually, when the geese were done having dinner and hurried back to their shelter in a cloud of ruffled feathers, he turned around and walked back to the house. Hayden was in the kitchen, jutting pots around, he could hear the faint sound of the TV in the living-room – there was a sewing show his mother never missed, she loved nothing best than to spent her late afternoons on the armchair next to the fireplace, knitting and watching TV; she was so happy during those quiet moments, it almost made it all worth it to Haymitch.

“Don’t burn the house.” he teased Hayden.

His brother rolled his eyes. “I’m looking for the kettle, you’ve seen it?”

“Ask Mama.” he shrugged, before raising his voice. “Mama, where did you put the kettle?”

The answer came in the form of an answering shout. “What have I told you about yelling in the house, Haymitch?!”

He and Hayden exchanged a glance and suppressed a snort. No other help was forthcoming from the living-room so his brother continued his search while Haymitch flopped down on a chair. He didn’t fancy watching two hours of sewing lessons.

His relationship with Hayden was always easier when the Games were still far away. The Games poisoned them. The already existing tensions and resentment exploded during those few weeks and there was nothing Haymitch could do about it except try to shield his brother as much as he could. He knew Hayden held him responsible for the lukewarm, if not outright distant, behavior of the other victors. And he _was_ responsible. It had taken him a lot of scheming to get everyone to agree on keeping Hayden out of the loop about what was happening behind the scenes. Some didn’t care, of course: the Careers, for instance, wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to him anyway. Hayden wasn’t a popular victor by any standards.

“What are you whistling?” Haymitch frowned just as his brother stopped his bad rendition of whatever song he was trying to emulate and held out the kettle in triumph.

“ _The Hanging Tree_.” Hayden replied, placing the water to boil. “There was a guy singing it in the meadow with his little girl earlier.”

“Fun.” he snorted. “Very child friendly.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too but it stuck in my head.” his brother shrugged. “Effie called.”

Haymitch’s heart missed a beat.

He had purposely not thought about Effie Trinket ever since she had left the penthouse to never come back.

“She quitted yet?” he asked, careful to sound detached.

She was different, that woman, and he didn’t like where his mind was going with that. She had befriended Hayden without a second thought or a pause to consider that he would be of no use to her climb of the social ladder – their other escorts certainly had nothing but _that_ in mind. She had refused both Haymitch’s advances and his money, offering him a deal that was ridiculous compared to what he had to do in the past to keep his secrets from his brother… Besides, it was ridiculous mostly because she was basically forcing him to his job so it wasn’t as if she found any advantage in it… She cared about the tributes, she cared about Twelve’s image… She was very good at her job… She was also very pretty for a Capitol…

And Hayden was besotted out of his mind.

He had probed him discreetly when they were still in the Capitol, worried that he would fall head over heels and get his heart broken in the process but Hayden insisted they were just friends and that he didn’t fancy her. Haymitch wasn’t so easily convinced.

Perhaps it was the idea of having a friend of his own who didn’t buy Haymitch’s bullshit that attracted Hayden. Haymitch knew his brother felt lonely. People in Twelve were much more welcoming and friendly with him than they were with their senior victor but he remained a victor, someone who failed to bring back their kids in one piece, and that created a gap between him and the rest of the population, no matter how kind Hayden was.

“I told you she would stay.” Hayden snapped, harsher than strictly necessary. “She said she would.”

So she had said.

But that was before Haymitch had spilled his life story on her and opened her pretty blue eyes to the dump hole she was living in.

“Yeah.” he granted because he didn’t want to fight. He was tired and cold and the tea Hayden was making was more appealing than an inevitable strut in the snow to cool down from an argument. “What did she want then?”

His brother took his time pouring hot water into three mugs before he answered as if he knew Haymitch wouldn’t like the answer.

“She wanted to warn us that she is coming up here in two weeks to help with the preparations for the Victory Tour.” Hayden finally said. “Apparently, they want something really fancy this year and they don’t think Twelve will manage on its own.”

No wonder they wanted something _fancy_. From the glimpses he had caught on TV when their mother was watching a show or another, the _Odair_ _Mania_ – as Caesar had started to call it – hadn’t died down in the few months since the crowning. People were waiting for the Tour with unprecedented eagerness.

“Well, they have a point.” Haymitch chuckled. “Undersee always keeps it simple.” With good reasons. Twelve had no money to spare. “Trinket will have a blast trying to change his mind.”

“I think she’s bringing things with her from the Capitol.” his brother corrected. “I don’t know really. She hung up quickly. She didn’t sound thrilled to have to come all the way here.”

“You blame her?” He wrapped his hands around the mug Hayden had placed in front of him, letting the burning drink warm his fingers. “She probably never saw a snowflake in her life. How long do you think it will take before hypothermia kills her?”

He snickered at the thought. He had no doubt whatsoever that she would show up in inappropriate winter gear : dresses too thin and too short to protect her from the biting cold. If she was lucky those horrible wigs of hers would keep her head warm.

“I will call her back and warn her. I didn’t think about it.” Hayden countered at once, with an irritated glance for him. “ _You_ will _behave_. I like her, I can work with her and she’s willing to put up with _you._ Don’t fuck this up, Haymitch.”

“Language, baby brother.” he taunted, just in time.

Their mother appeared behind Hayden, as if summoned by his cursing, and whacked him at the back of his head.

“ _Ouch_.” Hayden whined, rubbing at the spot.

It was actually funny because Hayden was so much taller than she was, she had to raise on tip-toes to reach him. Haymitch had learned how to duck long ago.

She grabbed her mug and took a sip, her eyes darting from one of her son to the other with suspicion. “What were you two talking about?”

“Nothing.” Hayden flashed her his most innocent smile.

“Nothing.” Haymitch echoed, just as innocently.

She didn’t believe them for one second.

“You two will be the death of me.” she sighed.

“Ah, Mama…” Hayden laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You know we love you.”

“I know you _claim_ to love me.” she grumbled, but there was a smile tugging at her lips and her eyes were sparkling with mirth.

Haymitch wished more days were like this one : easy, happy even. They had no money problem anymore, his mother didn’t have to work like a slave, his brother would never want for anything, they went to bed with full bellies every night… It was more than he had ever dreamt of as a boy but… Their family wasn’t as happy as it once had been. They all loved each other, of course, but perhaps they weren’t as good at showing it as they used to be. Haymitch certainly wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Abernathy family quality time and Haymitch's first pov ! Next week, you will get an extra-long chapter and… Effie is back! Let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

Last time she had been on that train, Effie had been overjoyed. She had spent the whole trip with her face glued to the window, eyes open wide not to miss anything. _The wilderness_. She had never been out of the Capitol before she came to Twelve for the Reaping the year before and the huge empty stretch of nature she had see on the way had humbled her. The Capitol was a magnificent place but so was the rest of Panem.

Even now, even though it was the second time she was making the trip, she couldn’t help standing by the window, wishing the train was going that little bit slower. It was difficult to see everything when the train was going so fast landscapes were nothing more than a blur. Yet, she wasn’t overjoyed. She hadn’t been overjoyed in some time.

Ever since she had left the Training Center roof.

She was apprehensive about seeing Haymitch again.

The Capitol, her home, had always looked like a paradise to her. And she would have blindly and happily continued on believing so if it weren’t for Haymitch and his upsetting revelations. She had waited weeks before finally confronting Livia, and Livia, to Effie’s utter bafflement, had confirmed his claims - well, most of them anyway. District Six’s escort didn’t know anything about Haymitch’s backstory but she had admitted there was a definite possibility that what he had said was true, she knew of other victors who had been threatened in the same way. She had told Effie everything about the bidding and bargaining that happened behind the scenes for some “ _special appointment_ s” with the victors. For the lucky ones, it was once or twice, for the less lucky – like Haymitch, who was a popular one – it was a regular occurrence. Only a handful of people were in the know about that disgusting business but it was a large handful because the Capitol wasn’t lacking in wealthy or influential people.

Livia hadn’t stopped there with her revelations but Effie didn’t quite know what to think about the corruption or the real state of poverty some Districts were in. She had used the word _slavery_ , in a rushed whisper, before looking around with a frantic expression that had told Effie that Haymitch’s paranoid tendencies were, perhaps, justified.

Effie, herself, hadn’t spoken of what she had learned to anyone. First, Livia had advised her – _pleaded_ with her – not to. And who could she have told anyway? Her mother would have scoffed and tried to arrange a blind date with another one of her friends’ son, her father would have listened politely but would have let her know through a mere look that she was being as dumb as he thought her to be, and her sister would have laughed at her and swore if something like that was happening, she would already have known because of her husband’s connections. Of course, it had also crossed Effie’s mind that her sister and possibly her parents _did_ know about it. They were quite wealthy after all, and influential on the social scene.

Too soon, the train started to slow down as they approached Twelve and before she could truly prepare herself, they reached the station. The platform was deserted except for the lonely figure of the mayor who greeted her with a polite but strained smile.

Mayor Undersee didn’t even try small talk, he cut right down to the chase.

“Miss Trinket, we don’t have any money.” he said. “Whatever you’re planning… We won’t be able to do it.”

She tried to reassure him that she – and the Capitol – didn’t expect anything extravagant from Twelve but he looked dubious at best.

It was traditional for the Victory Tour to start in Twelve and wave its way up to the city. Audience figures were usually low until the winning team reached Eight but that year was a historic year. Nobody had lost any interest in the last Games yet and everyone was waiting for Finnick’s first public appearance since the crowning. All the eyes in Panem would watch Twelve and Effie had been told in no uncertain terms that it was out of the question to show them the usual thin crowd at the station followed by the lonely walk in the deserted street to the Square. Whatever she had to do, she was supposed to make _this_ an event to remember.

“I am certain we can work something out.” she smiled.

She went to work at once because there was no time to lose. She had jotted down a list that Mayor Undersee looked at with obvious attention. He gradually started to relax when he realized her main ideas didn’t involve spending money. The first priority was to recruit a crowd – preferably teenagers – to greet Finnick at the station when the train would arrive. The Square would be full, of course, attendance was mandatory but they needed to be sure Twelve looked happy and as enthusiastic as the rest of the country – once, she would have taken that for granted but now, after spending so much time with Hayden and Haymitch, she wasn’t so sure.

And, of course, the District itself needed to _look_ festive.

And that, she understood as Mayor Undersee gave her a tour of the roads the winning team and their cameras usually followed, would be _a feat_.

“We need decorations.” she mused, as they were reaching the Square. “Illuminations, perhaps. Something to take the focus out of…” She stopped herself just in time but she was sure the mayor had caught what she hadn’t said : _the misery_. Everything in this District looked gloomy : the rows of shacks that passed for houses they could spy at the bottom of the hill – the Seam, as she had been informed – the peeling paint of the rare stores in town, the awful states of the roads, the monotonous grey color of the sky that matched the dirty snow under their boots…

“We don’t have decorations.” Mayor Undersee objected.

Effie sighed and marked that down on her notepad under things to think about later that night. She had three days to work miracles and, somehow, she just knew it might not be enough. Her pen refused to work properly and she had to shake it a few times before ink accepted to flow again. Like her fingers that her thin lace gloves did a poor job at protecting, her pen was frozen.

“What about the feast?” she asked. “It needs to be _fabulous_ , Mr. Mayor. All the cameras will be there and we can’t have our District looking less than the best.”

She figured it was lucky she had accidentally used “our” instead of “your” because Mayor Undersee looked sorry instead of displeased.

“But we are _not_ the best, Miss Trinket.” he answered. “There is simply not enough food to feed our people. Where do you want me to find something that could look fabulous as you say?”

“I could have it shipped from the Capitol…” She bit her bottom lip, trying to calculate how expensive it would turn out and if they would agree to it in the first place.

“We don’t have the money.” Mayor Undersee shrugged. “I won’t famish my people for a party. I am sorry.”

Effie let out another sigh. Her blue eyes wandered around the Square in search of inspiration but she found nothing. There was an old post in the middle and she shuddered thinking of what it represented. _You get whipped for poaching_ , Haymitch had said. She couldn’t imagine it. She _didn’t_ _want_ to imagine it. The Square was otherwise deserted but for the lone passerby who hurried along either to escape the snow or the sight of her.

“I need to go back to the Justice Building.” the mayor said, not unkindly. “We’ve been trying to get the Capitol to change some of our mining equipment and it’s a bureaucratic hassle, you see?” She nodded with a small polite smile even though she had no idea what he was talking about. He must have realized because he flashed her a knowing smile. “I will escort you back to the train.”

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” she protested. “I think I will pop to the Victors’ Village. It wouldn’t be very polite of me not to visit my victors.”

“I can show you the way, if you wish.” the mayor insisted. “I am not sure how safe you would be alone.” Something flashed on his face and he quickly added. “The snow, I mean. And you could get lost, of course.”

“Thank you.” she repeated. “I think I remember the way. I have excellent memory skills. As for the snow… Well, I should get used to it if I am to stay a few days, shouldn’t I?”

The snow, actually, delighted her. She had never seen real one. There were the snow canons in the Capitol, in winter, but it was all synthetic, not… _real_.

She did remember the path really well. It wasn’t really difficult, the District itself wasn’t very large. The town occupied a good portion of land, then there was a meadow, and roads that lead downhill to the Seam. Her aim was to go up to the Village. Locating the slope wasn’t that hard.

People in the streets gave her odd glances, she smiled at them with sympathy. They had good reasons to stare, she mused, it was strange to think they had never seen something as beautiful as her puffy new white coat and her lovely mint green wig. Some women with children even scattered away when she passed them by, clutching their children against them as if to prevent them from escaping, probably in fear the curious boys and girls would sully her clothes – or at least, that was what she chose to believe.

She was a little out of breath by the time she reached the wrought iron gates of the Victors’ Village : walking through an ankle deep coat of snow was more difficult than she thought it would be. She hurried to the Abernathy’s house and knocked on the door without even pausing to adjust her wig.

The door opened on Hayden, his bright friendly smile almost blinded her and she found herself grinning back, truly happy to see him. She had a lot of friends but few of those were special and Hayden had woven his way into her heart.

“Come in!” he invited her – or, rather, he pulled her inside. He hugged her quickly and almost tore the coat from her shoulders in his enthusiasm.

“You’re saying hello or trying to get her naked?”

Effie stopped soothing her blue dress to glance up at the sneering man leaning against the living-room doorframe. For a second, she and Haymitch eyed each other with something akin to uncertainty. He didn’t seem ready to say anything so she figured it was her move.

“Why, Haymitch, charming as usual.” she chided without any real annoyance.

“Don’t mind him.” Hayden pushed her gently toward the living-room. “He’s grumpy because Mama found his secret stash of liquor.”

“Yeah, you would think a thirty year old could drink what he wants.” Haymitch muttered.

“You would think.” a female voice commented. “But you would be mistaken.”

Effie turned around to greet Mrs Abernathy with a smile. The old woman was carrying a tray with freshly baked cookies. Despite her intention to watch her figure, her mouth watered. The smell was _so_ good…

“I’m very happy to see you again, my dear.” the woman said. “You certainly made an impression on my boys. You’re all they can talk about.”

Haymitch’s eyebrows raised up high and Effie understood Hayden had probably done most of the talking.

“They’re a pleasure to work with, Mrs. Abernathy.” she assured their mother, even though it was a tiny, _tiny_ lie.

“Oh, please…” The woman waved her hand in the air. “Call me Iris.”

“Iris.” Effie repeated while Mrs. Abernathy looked at her sons with obvious fondness. “Do sit down, dear. Excuse my boys, they have no manners. Take the chair near the fire. Did you walk all the way from the station? You must be freezing.”

Ushered as she was by the old woman’s kindness, Effie found herself sitting in the armchair closest to the roaring fire, a cup of tea in one hand and a delicious caramel cookie in the other. Mrs. Abernathy had taken the other chair and Hayden had flopped on the couch. Haymitch hovered uncertainly behind his brother, clearly undecided about partaking in the odd reunion.

When he asked, she summarized her meeting with Mayor Undersee. He nodded once when she was done while Hayden and Iris agreed she would have a hard time making changes.

“Where are you staying, dear?” Iris asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

Effie didn’t know she even had an option in where to stay. “Oh, on the train. Why? Is there an inn somewhere?”

An inn would probably be more practical than the long walk from the station to town.

“Yeah, sure.” Haymitch snorted. “We have five stars hotels too.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Haymitch.” Iris rebuked him. “Not to mention it is rude.”

“Sorry, Mama.” he said in a tone that implied he was anything but.

Mrs. Abernathy glared at her son and Effie politely stared at her empty cup of tea.

“You should stay here.” Hayden said, out of the blue. “It will be more comfortable than the train and you will be closer to town.” She looked up, surprised – and clearly she wasn’t the only one because Iris was staring at her son as if he had grown a second head – but Hayden didn’t seem to realize anything was amiss. “You can have my room.” he added.

Haymitch opened his mouth but the definitive cling his mother’s cup made when it met the saucer was enough warning. He shook his head, swallowed back his chuckles and headed out of the room.

“Thank you but I won’t chase you out of your bed.” Effie finally replied. “The train will be fine, I assure you.”

“Nonsense.” Iris said. “Hayden has his own house, we simply like being all together under one roof. We have plenty of beds to spare and we would be delighted to have you. Friends of my boys are always welcome.”

The glance Mrs. Abernathy threw her son was too knowing for Effie’s tastes but Hayden’s grey eyes were nothing but friendly. And there was no polite way to refuse the invitation now that it was extended so she simply accepted it with a nod.

°O°O°O°

The geese were honking their anger at not being fed.

Haymitch stared back at the birds stonily, wishing Trinket would hurry up and leave so he could go back inside.

He didn’t glance over his shoulder when he heard the back door open and close, sure it was a member of his family who had come to drill into his skull how much of a deterrent to their social life he was. He should have just shut up, he figured. His mother loved having people over but that rarely happened nowadays. The only regular visitor was Greasy Sae and the old woman only made the effort because they had been friends for so long.

The wind carried a whiff of fancy perfume and he turned in time to see Effie Trinket trudging through the snow that had piled up in the backyard because he couldn’t be bothered to shovel it away.

“Didn’t have to come and say goodbye, Princess.” he mocked.

“Actually, your mother invited me to stay here if that’s alright with you.” she retorted.

He didn’t offer any help and she didn’t seem to expect it so he leaned his back against the pen and watched her attempt to make her way over without getting snow all over her dress. She should have put the coat back on because he was ready to bet she would be soaked before she went back inside.

“Did anyone actually ask for my opinion?” he spat.

“Well, it _is_ your house from what I gathered and I won’t impose. I have manners, you know.” she huffed.

He simply shrugged, not caring one way or another. Was he happy about hosting a Capitol? No. Did he have a choice? Not if his mother and his brother had decided they were hosting her.

Her efforts to conquer the snow were laughable. Haymitch didn’t even try to hide a smirk. It took almost ten minutes for her to join him next to the pen. She tossed the geese an inquisitive glance but since he didn’t venture an explanation, she politely cleared her throat. It was starting to get awkward and he was tired of feeling that way around her.

“I didn’t think I would see you again.” he said at last, staring at the birds who were busy quaking. “’Thought you would quit.”

“I thought about it.” she replied almost at once, as if she had waiting for days to admit it aloud. Maybe she had. “But I promised Hayden I would stay and help. I hate going back on my word.”

“Still think I’m crazy?” he asked quietly.

It seemed important to know somehow – not that it would make a difference in the long run, she had said she wouldn’t tell Hayden and she was too stuck-up to lie about that. She was honest for a Capitol.

She didn’t answer at once. She was looking everywhere but at him, shivering in her blue dress that matched her eyes so well, and he wondered how long it would take before her lips turned the same shade.

“Go back inside.” he said. “You’re going to turn into a popsicle.”

She didn’t move. She folded her arms across her chest to keep herself warm and she kept her eyes firmly averted when she spoke next.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Hayden but I’ve been asked to tell you your presence is required in the Capitol until the end of the Tour.” she whispered. “You’re supposed to come back with me.”

Of course.

Snow needed meat to feed the masses.

“Okay.” He was careful to keep his voice neutral.

The message was delivered, she had no reason to remain there freezing her ass off but, still, she stayed, rubbing her arms to bring some warmth back into them. He let her. If she wanted to catch her death, it certainly wasn’t his problem.

“The boy… Finnick…” she hesitated. “Are they going to sell him too?”

That wasn’t a question he wanted to contemplate. He had thought about it a lot, Four’s newest victor was already a favorite and that meant… He felt guilty only thinking about it. “Not for a few years hopefully.”

Even horror had its limits.

She nodded slowly, chewing on her bottom lip. She met his eyes then and, once again, he was taken aback by the bright shade of blue. A lot of women wore contacts in the Capitol, fancy colors or patterns, he was glad Trinket didn’t. The wig was bad but hiding those eyes of hers would have been a crime.

“I wish to apologize for my behavior.” she declared, very formally. “I didn’t believe you and…”

“It’s fine.” he scowled. “I wish I was just nuts, sweetheart.”

“Still…” she insisted, placing a hand on his arm. “I am sorry.”

He stared at the fingers, reddish from the cold, resting on the heavy wool of his sweater for a long time. He didn’t like being touched more than strictly necessary but, curiously, the light weight didn’t feel so bad. He shrugged it off anyway but… gently.

“It’s fine.” he repeated. “But we need to talk.”

Relief flashed on her face, immediately followed by a wince. “Could we talk inside? It’s really cold.”

“Of course, it’s cold. It’s _winter_.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’ve never seen a real winter before!” she laughed suddenly, scooping a handful of snow. “It’s so pretty! Much more than the one in the streets. It’s all dirty and black… In your garden it looks beautiful. It’s like a fairy tale.”

She tossed it in the air and watched it fall down. She looked like a child, not a grown-up woman.

“ _Sure_.” he drawled out. He smirked when she shook her fingers to bring feelings back into them. Ridiculous. She was ridiculous. “Look, sweetheart, you and Hayden… I don’t know what’s going on there but you need to put a stop to it.”

She frowned, obviously confused. “What do you mean? We are friends nothing else… I think your mother may have gotten the wrong idea, though, but…” Her sentence trailed off and if she had been the type to do something so plebeian, Haymitch was certain she would have shrugged.

“Don’t lie to me.” he ordered. “If he gives in to one Capitol, he’s fair game to all of them. I don’t want that to happen.”

The frown morphed into an expression of understanding but still she shook her head.

“Just friends.” she insisted.

He didn’t think she was lying. He had seen no signs on her part proving she was interested anyway.

“Better make it clear to him, then.” Haymitch advised. “He fancies you and you won’t like my usual way of dealing with that little problem.”

He started toward the house, not waiting for her to follow. She tramped behind him, trying to walk into his footsteps so she wouldn’t have to deal with the pack of snow. Her teeth were chattering now.

“What is it?” she asked, when they were back safely into the kitchen. “Your usual method to scare away the women he fancies?”

He could hear the low rumble of the TV in the living-room, there was a pot of stew on the stove… If everyone was following the evening routine, his mother was in front of her show and Hayden was somewhere upstairs.

His smirk turned into something predatory when he advanced on her slowly. She instinctively walked back to find her retreat blocked by the kitchen counter. A soft gasp escaped her lips when he invaded her personal space, close enough their body brushed against each other in a very intimate way. She shivered when he leaned in and he doubted it was from the cold. He brought his mouth near her ear, close enough that he knew she would feel his breath against her skin. “I sleep with them.”

The method was despicable, of course, but he had reconciled with the idea of being a despicable man. He wasn’t much more than a whore already so why not an asshole on top of it? Whatever if it was to protect his brother.

There was a second of silence and then she pushed him away firmly. He let her, stepping aside to let her run in the other room, relishing in her flushed cheeks and angry scowl.

He laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Effie is back! We will get more about her thoughts about it all in the next chapters. =) Let me know what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

The whole day had been a terrible hassle and Effie was relieved to see Hayden appear at the door of Mayor Undersee’s office. She greeted him with a bright smile. Her sudden good mood must have alerted the mayor because he looked up suddenly, he relaxed once he spotted the victor and rose from his chair to shake the younger man’s hand.

Effie took the opportunity to gather her papers while they exchanged small talk. One day left before Four’s train would arrive and there was still so much to do she didn’t know where to start. They had found a solution to the lack of decorations the District owned : the children would make them at school with papers and paint as an art project. In the same way, she had Mayor Undersee to pick a few teenagers from thirteen to fifteen to organize a welcome committee at the station – she had asked for Finnick’s fans but volunteers had still been few until the teachers had agreed to add extra credits to whoever would do it. She had seen to it that a tour of the District was organized – only the best spots : the town, the mine and the meadow – so that would occupy cameras for a while. That was three problems fewer for Effie to handle but the bigger one was still looming : the dinner.

There was simply no salvaging that. She had gone over the District’s budget with Mayor Undersee, she had calculated how much it would cost to get a food of better quality than what they had in Twelve – thinking she could perhaps cover some of the expense if needed be – but it was simply too costly. They would have to do with the vegetables and the few quarter of meat they had there – she hadn’t asked where the meat came from, she _hadn’t_ , it looked like rats. Undersee had said he knew a man which implied it was less than legal and that he might manage to get a deer or a wild dog, Effie had simply asked that no one was put in jeopardy over this. Haymitch’s words about poaching were still ringing in her ears.

She was eager to get away from the Justice Building anyway : being cooked up all day, bent over papers and expenses books when it didn’t concern shoes, dresses or fashion accessories wasn’t very fun. She said her goodbyes to the mayor, promised to come back at the opening hours the next day with a solution to their food problem, and hurried along the corridors, Hayden on her heels.

“Eager to get out of here?” Hayden joked, quickening his steps to stay at her side.

“Oh, my! Yes!” she sighed. “This isn’t the kind of work I had in mind when I became an escort, you know. Oh, this reminds me… I have good news. Well, it _could_ be good news.”

They emerged on the Square and she breathed in. The air, here, was different than in the Capitol, purer somehow, it was disturbing sometimes. It was also so cold it burned on the way down to her lungs. She could feel her cheeks reddening from the sharp wind and she buried her hands in her pockets, ignoring the nagging voice of her mother at the back of her mind that ranted about lady-like attitude.

“Two let Tigris go.” she announced, careful not to slip on the tricky stairs that led to the Justice Building. They were covered in ice and she had almost took a fall that morning. “She’s going slightly overboard with the feline impersonation I think. Last year, she had eye surgery, you know, to get tawny eyes? Well, right after the Games, she had another surgery. She has whiskers now, it was on the front page of several magazines for weeks. People are starting to wonder just how far she will go and it doesn’t suit Two’s team. They want a serious image.”

“Are you saying we can get Tigris as a stylist?” Hayden asked, his eyes widening at the prospect.

“I petitioned for her but so did a lot of outer Districts.” Effie said cautiously. “Seven, Ten and Eleven are also interested from what I gathered but Gladia and Talila aren’t real competition.” Gladia, Seven’s escort was too busy securing an engagement with a junior Gamemaker to care much about what was going on on the stylists’ front. As for Talila, the woman had next to no contact on the fashion scene. “The real danger is Viola.” Because Eleven’s escort would stop at nothing to get something Effie wanted only to spite her and she had as many acquaintances on that floor as Effie did. “I had a few dinners and lunches with Tigris though and I think I made a good impression on her.”

“That would be great, Effie.” Hayden smiled, his eyes shining with mirth. “It could give us a better start in the Games… If we had capable stylists…”

“I’m doing everything I can.” Effie promised.

She had also contacted several of her personal friends who were all very sympathizing and promised to call her back but she had quickly understood that, friendship or no friendship, few stylists would voluntarily work for Twelve. All of her stylist friends either got mysterious prior engagement or forgot to call back.

“I know.” he said, very seriously. “If you ever manage to get us a good stylist, I could marry you.”

The last part was added as a joke and she laughed but, still, there was something guarded in her own voice. What had happened after the Crowning kept popping into her mind at random times ever since her conversation with Haymitch – not that she was scared he would use his evil scheming on her to scare her away, there was _no way_ she would sleep with him but…

“Hayden.” She placed a restrictive hand on his arm and stopped walking. He turned to look at her with a small frown. There were better places to do this than the middle of the street, she thought, but it was too late now and the house was too crowded in any case. Iris Abernathy was a charming woman but she was clearly starved for companionship other than her sons’ and tended to follow Effie around. She didn’t truly mind it, her host was delightful and it was a pleasure to get to know her, she enjoyed the long chats over nothing or something she had seen on TV and yet… It also meant she had found no perfect moment to clear some things up with Hayden. “I like you very much and you have been a very good friend to me but…”

“Oh…” he cringed, his cheeks flushing crimson in embarrassment. “Mama talked to you, didn’t she? Look… She got the wrong idea. Not that I don’t like you, you’re… Well…” He gestured at her body awkwardly. “You’re very pretty but you said you weren’t interested and…”

“I’m not.” Effie confirmed quickly. “I mean…” She was ill-at-ease now and she hoped her make-up was hiding her blush. “It’s nothing personal, it’s just…”

“No, I get it.” he promised. “Mama wants Haymitch and me to settle and give her grandkids, you know. She’s not very subtle about it.”

She chose to keep silent the fact it wasn’t his mother who had expressed concerns. Somehow, she doubted he would accept it that well if he knew it came from his brother instead.

“Friends?” she asked in an attempt to chase the awkwardness away.

“Friends.” he confirmed with a smile. He started walking again and when she fell in steps with him, he lifted his eyebrows. “Alright, so tell me how are you going to beat Viola to the chase?”

A cunning smile stretched her lips.

°O°O°O°

Night always was the worst moment of Haymitch’s day.

He often thought it would be easier to deal with if he could drink himself into a stupor or keep his knife under the pillow, unfortunately alcohol was out of the question and he didn’t dare sleep anywhere near his knife after what had happened the year before with his mother and more recently with Trinket. He was half-certain he would kill someone in his sleep and he had enough blood on his hands as it was.

His nights were thus spent either staring at the ceiling and trying not to think or desperately running over words on a book’s pages and trying to focus. He had gone for the second option that night. He was lying on the couch, squinting at the small print. The living-room was dark except for the lamppost next to his head. He should have gotten up and switched the lights on but he couldn’t be bothered. It was late enough that the house was silent : Hayden had left for his own house hours earlier, around the time Trinket and his mother had gone to bed.

The creaking alerted him.

The house was old and like all old houses, it was full of noises : the wood tended to pop, the pipes clung especially loud when it was cold, and the wind sometimes filtered through the windows… Yet, there was a difference between the noises inherent to the house and the cautious creaking of the stairs.

He strained his neck but the corridor was still dark, whoever was coming down was attempting to be discreet. He rolled his eyes.

“Mama, switch the lights on!” he called out. “Trinket won’t thank you if you break your neck not to wake her.” He muttered the last part, annoyed at how taken his mother seemed to be with their escort. It was lucky the Capitol woman was talkative because they certainly talked the ear off each other. Trinket had been there for two days, each time he had walked on the two of them, they had been happily babbling about nonsensical things like knitting patterns and lace and sewing stuff he had no idea even existed. It wouldn’t help with their mother’s recurrent hints that it was time for one of them to give her grandchildren, he mused.

The creaking stopped for an instant and then started again.

“It’s me, not your mother.” Trinket whispered, a few seconds later. “I apologize I didn’t wish to disturb anyone. I just wanted a glass of water.”

He didn’t point out that there was water in the bathroom right in front of her door. Drinking directly from the tap must be something foreign to a Capitol, probably not proper.

“It’s late.” he said, trying to get a glimpse of her. He didn’t bother sitting up, straining his neck this way and that instead, but he could barely guess at her figure in the darkness, she was staying purposely out of reach of the lamp halo.

“I was working.” she replied. “I think I found a solution to the party problem.”

“Then you should go to sleep.” he shrugged, going back to stare at the minuscule words on the page. It didn’t capture his attention any more than it had earlier.

“I am out of sleeping pills if you must know.” she sighed, obviously irritated. “You wouldn’t happen to have some by any chance?”

“Sleeping pills? What are you using that shit for?” he frowned, propping the book on his chest again. Still, she remained out of sight. “Come out here. I don’t like talking to an empty space.”

“I’m not…” she hesitated. “I’m dressed for bed.”

“And?” he snorted. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, is it?”

Granted, he was quite drunk at the time and all he could remember of it was golden curls and pleasant curves enhanced by the silk dressing gown. He had been too taken aback by her actions to focus on anything else, to be honest. He had come to learn, even before he had won his Games, that in this life, nothing was free. It was very rare for someone to help someone else without expecting anything in return. Yet, Trinket had helped him to bed despite their very short and very unpleasant acquaintance without taking advantage. She was very big on the not taking advantage. It disturbed him. At least, when people tried to screw with you, you knew where you stood.

“I suppose.” she granted, taking a step out of the shadows before pausing. “If you make fun of my ugly plain self, I will hurt you. Just so you know.”

Her threat was ridiculous but it brought a smirk to his face. “You’re ugly when you’re painted like a clown, sweetheart. I like the plain you better.”

It wasn’t exactly reassuring either but she didn’t seem to mind the comment. She came into view, briefly stepping into the lamppost’s glow in all the glory of her pastel pink silky dressing gown, before looking for a seat. There was none close enough to the light source except for the couch he was slumped on so she perched on the edge of the coffee table with a displeased face. Perhaps he was being rude in not offering her a share of the couch. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when she was sitting less than a feet away from him and her nightgown and matching dressing gown were riding so high on her thighs it left his mouth parched.

She had very pretty legs and there was no shame in admitting it, he figured, despite a long-sworn oath to never lust after a Capitol on his own will.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What does it look like?” he taunted, slowly waving the book at her. “Ever seen something like this? It’s called a book. You should try it. I heard there were some with pretty pictures for people like you.”

She pursed her mouth in obvious annoyance.

“You shouldn’t assume I am uneducated just because I am an escort and I used to be a model.” she snapped. “I have, for instance, a deep interest for architecture, I am also very talented at calculus and…”

“Yeah, no need to recite your resume, sweetheart.” he cut her off. “I don’t care.” He ignored her glaring. “Why the sleeping pills?”

“What are you reading?” she deflected, reaching for the book. He put it out of reach before she could touch it, it was old and rare and had seen enough abuse already. She still managed to glimpse the title. “ _The Republic_.” She frowned. “Is that a novel? It seems…”

“Forbidden?” he mocked. “It is. You never saw it, Princess.”

She barely bat an eyelash. “You have a forbidden book. Why am I not surprised?”

“Actually, I have a collection.” He nodded to the shelf at the other end of the room. It was half empty still but it had been a good investment of his “pocket money”, at least the books were preserved and saved from the fire Peacekeepers always tossed them into. “And this isn’t a novel, it’s philosophy.”

“Oh.” she wrinkled her nose. “I have no love for _that_.”

“I bet.” He couldn’t quite blame her though. Philosophy was only practiced in the Capitol and it had more to do with old pedantic men sitting around and arguing about who was the most intelligent rather than actual debate over politics and society. Haymitch wasn’t big on philosophy either to be honest, he would favor a good puzzle for his mind to untangle over a debate, but he had picked a book at random earlier. “So. The pills. You want to become a junkie or something?”

That would have been highly ironic. The would-be drunkard whose mother forbade to drink with the actual junkie escort who had no reason to turn to drugs.

“I don’t take them all the time.” she was quick to defend herself. “Only when…” Her voice trailed off and he studied her more closely, finally spotting the dark bags under her eyes the make-up usually kept hidden.

“You’re dreaming about the kids.” he finished for her.

Her eyes widened, she bit her bottom lip. “How do you know?”

“We all do.” he shrugged.

He tended to have nightmares about the kids he had killed rather than those he had failed to save – they were Hayden’s prerogative – but the tributes featured in his dreams sometimes. Always bleeding, always angry and always so quick to accuse him of not having even _tried_. The guilt was all he knew at night. Guilt about the people he had killed, guilt about his girl, guilt about his lies…

“I keep thinking about Stella.” she confessed in a rushed whisper. “I keep thinking I lied to her. I told her she would win. I told her…”

“You did good with the girl.” he interrupted her. She had been better than any other escort they ever had, that was for sure. Hayden was right about that. “But Trinket, those kids… They never win.”

She looked hurt, she averted her eyes. “Your brother said that once too.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, the day you get a potential victor in front of you, you will know.” he said. “All you can do until then is make sure the kids aren’t too scared.”

She kept her eyes averted and he wondered if it was because she didn’t want to admit he was right or because she was afraid _of admitting to herself_ he was. Clearly, she had done some thinking since the night on the roof but just _how_ _much_?

“Why didn’t you quit?” he asked, low enough that his voice wouldn’t carry further than the living-room. Old houses were tricky and his mother’s sleep wasn’t better than her sons’, he didn’t want her to hear anything she wasn’t supposed to. “You’re better than any escort we had, Trinket, I’m not stupid enough not to see it. You’re better than most of them really.”

“Then why do you want me to quit?” she retorted, equally low.

He mulled over that for a few second and then shrugged. “’Cause you’re nice.”

He had told her that once before, the night the girl died, and he remembered only too late what had prompted those words at the time. He could have slept with her. It had been a while since he had slept with a woman purely out of lust – not because he had to or to prevent his brother from getting himself into a mess he had a secret gift for but because he, _Haymitch_ , desired her. And he certainly liked Trinket enough. She was plenty attractive even with the Capitol gear, he could have enjoyed it even. Yet she had been upset at the time and it felt too much like taking advantage – he had never really bothered with feeling guilty over taking advantage of a Capitol before but Effie had been nothing but friendly with him despite her annoying habit of trying to boss him around.

“Perhaps that’s why I have to stay then.” she ventured.

“Because you promise my brother? Don’t sell your soul for a stupid promise.” he scoffed. “If he knew everything, he would be the first in line to tell you to get your ass out of there.”

Her blue eyes wandered back to his face, they were insistent but Haymitch kept his safely riveted to the fireplace in front of him. It was time to add another log, he mused.

“Why doesn’t he?” she asked. “Why haven’t you told him? Them?”

Because it was easier to let his family think he was a womanizing pig rather than face their pity and their horror if they knew he was nothing but a whore.

“We’re not doing this, sweetheart.” he snorted. “You’re not going to be my confident and you’re not going to fix me with your rainbow and sunshine attitude. I’m not interested. You’ve got Hayden to do that with.”

 _God, what he wouldn’t have done for a drink_ …

“I decided to stay because I don’t know what else to do.” she confessed as if they were playing an odd version of twenty questions, as if confiding her secrets would prompt him to tell her his… “What else can I do? Go back to modeling and pretend I don’t know what I know? Watch the Games knowing that…” She paused and sighed. “Livia implied it would be dangerous to quit without a good reason anyway. Although I… I don’t quite know what she means by that. She says people who say the wrong thing tend to disappear.”

“Livia…” he frowned. “Six’s escort?”

“Yes.” she nodded.

“Don’t talk about that with other escorts.” he scowled. Was she stupid? “Escorts are dumb chicks. Two out of three end up in a Gamemaker’s bed and there’s pillow talk, sweetheart. There’s _always_ pillow talk. You _don’t_ talk to people about doubting the system. You _don’t_.”

“She’s my friend.” she protested softly.

“Everyone’s your friend until they stab you in the back.” he snapped. “Keep your mouth shut, smile, and act dumb. That’s your best bet. You get the stakes here?” He locked eyes with her, if only to make sure she would grasp just how serious it all was. “It’s your life on the line, Effie. There’s a bigger arena away from the cameras. You’re in now.”

She swallowed with obvious difficulty. “May we be allies, then?”

She was expecting to be rejected, he heard it in her voice. He should have probably. His unique objective in life had always been to keep his family safe, for as long as he could remember that was what had driven him. Yet there she was, so frail looking in her glossy pink dressing gown, so unprepared to face the dangers lurking at every corner… She reminded him so much of the tributes who were reaped each year…

“Well, you’re part of my team, aren’t you?” he grumbled unhappily.

Sometimes, her smile was so bright he could have sworn it was blinding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're talking... What do you think?


	16. Chapter 16

“But you’ve just come home…” his mother complained from her position next to the stove, the eggs she had been planning for breakfast were forgotten on the pan.

Haymitch had waited as long as he could to announce his departure to his family. The train from Four would arrive in less than an hour, Trinket had been out at dawn to make sure everything was ready, and she would go back to the Capitol the next day which meant he couldn’t quite postpone the announcement anymore.

“Five months ago, Mama.” he corrected gently. “And it will be six months before the next Reaping. I’m just popping to the Capitol until the end of the Tour. I will be back before you know it.”

His mother greeted that statement with a displeased expression. Hayden remained silent, he was sitting in front of Haymitch at the kitchen table, and kept his eyes on his cup of coffee. On the stove, the eggs kept frying in a quick progression to being burnt to crisp.

“Come on, Mama…” he sighed. “Don’t…”

“You’re a grown man, Haymitch.” his mother snapped. “I have no business telling you what to do.”

“Mama…” he gritted his teeth.

But it was no use, she was already storming out of the kitchen with a glare that could have stopped an army.

Heaving another sigh, Haymitch got up to try and salvage the food.

“So…” he snorted. “You want your eggs burnt or charred?”

He dropped some on his brother’s plate without waiting for an answer. Hayden was giving him the silent treatment anyway, it seemed. It would probably have worked better if he hadn’t been using that method since he was three.

Haymitch stabbed his share of the crispy black eggs with his fork, munching on them with fake gusto.

“Tasty.” he lied. “Try it.”

It reminded him of breakfasts long gone, years ago, when he had tried to convince a four year old Hayden to eat his gruel even though it tasted even fouler than it looked.

“If you’re so desperate to get laid, I’m sure you could find someone here, you know.” his brother said.

Of course, Hayden had stopped being difficult about food long ago and had moved on to being a pain in Haymitch’s ass about other subjects.

“I miss the city.” he spat around a mouthful of eggs. He hoped it would hide the lie. It certainly made Hayden cringe in disgust.

“You miss the city or you miss getting drunk without Mama to lecture you?” his brother insisted bitterly.

“I’m sure your little friend will be happy to lecture me for Mama.” he scoffed. “Are you done trying to get into her pants? It’s a bit pathetic, Hayden, she’s _way_ out of your league.”

She wasn’t, not really. Haymitch wasn’t blind, Hayden wasn’t a baby anymore. He was twenty six, handsome and he turned heads wherever he went. Haymitch dreaded the day the Capitol finally realized how much younger, prettier and simply _better_ his brother was. The Capitol ate up innocence, it feasted on it. And Hayden fitted those criterias much more than _he_ now did.

“I told you I’m not interested.” his brother hissed.

“Keep telling yourself that.” he grumbled, wishing he could believe it. It was his fault, he supposed. He always intervened before Hayden could get serious with anyone, before Snow could find a pressure point to use on _him_ … In the Capitol, victors and Capitols alike tended to shun him, in Twelve people tended to give him a wide berth. It wasn’t that Hayden had problems finding women, it was that Haymitch always slithered in before it could evolve into something else. Trinket had sneaked in while Haymitch wasn’t looking. She wasn’t overly flirty – no more than with anyone else because, let’s face it, that woman _was_ a flirt – but she had been friendly and showed enough interest that it was natural Hayden had developed some sort of attraction to her. Not to mention the legs. He had troubles forgetting the legs.

“Don’t mess with her, Haymitch. Don’t you _dare_ mess with her or… ” Hayden’s threat trailed off and Haymitch _almost_ saw the victor his brother wasn’t completely.

“Or?” he challenged with a smirk. “What are you going to do, baby brother?”

Hayden’s grey eyes were icy when he stood up, slamming his hands on the table to prop himself up with more strength than necessary. “ _Don’t._ I’m serious.”

The warning seemed to echo in the room as Hayden left.

It was still better than the heavy silence his brother left behind him.

Haymitch took another mouthful of eggs purely to occupy himself.

They were cold.

°O°O°O°

The smile was starting to hurt but Effie scolded herself in the privacy of her own mind and forced herself to smile even wider. Everything had gone as planned until then and there was no indication that anything would go wrong at any given point in the next few hours : the train from Four had arrived right on time, under the hoorah of the small crowd of teenagers they had bribed, Effie had mostly remained behind the scenes but when they were finally introduced, she had found Finnick to be quite the charmer. Even now, as she observed him give a speech in front of the entire District Twelve and congratulate them on their fine tributes even though he probably had no idea whatsoever who Stella and Sage had been, he was managing to look endearing. Either he had been very well prepped or he was a natural. She would bet on the latter.

Beside her, Hayden squirmed on his chair. They were sitting on stage with the Mayor and the rest of District Four’s team, Haymitch was on the other side of Hayden, next to Mags and the two victors had been more or less discreetly chatting ever since Finnick had begun to talk. Effie was very happy to be sitting, she couldn’t begin to imagine how the poor people crammed in the Square were feeling, standing still against the icy wind.

She saw on the giant screen the camera beginning to pan out from Finnick to the crowd and more particularly to the two families of Stella and Sage. Effie didn’t want to look. Sage’s mother had started crying even before Finnick had uttered two words and Stella’s parents were standing very tall, very proud, their two remaining little boys and three little girls in front of them.

“Tell your brother to stop talking.” Effie hissed at Hayden, without parting with her bright ‘public’ smile.

The look Hayden gave her let her know there was no controlling Haymitch but still, he whispered the message to Haymitch who, predictably, didn’t listen and continued his little talk for everyone to see since they were now on the screen. Having captured something more interesting than Finnick’s speech which, admittedly, was starting to drag, the camera zoomed on the two victors.

Effie’s smile grew strained.

“I’m going to kill your brother.” she sing-sang, barely moving her lips.

Hayden tried to swallow back his chuckles and ended up coughing. It had the added bonus of distracting Haymitch who patted his back to help him breathe again. She managed to catch the senior victor’s eyes and the danger must have been plain because he paused for a second before a slow smirk blossomed on his mouth. She just _knew_ he was considering continuing his antics just to annoy her. She narrowed her eyes at him but Hayden straightened, having finally recovered from the coughing fit, and hid him from view again.

Fortunately, Finnick finally stopped talking and thanked the crowd for their attention. Effie clapped boisterously as if to compensate for the lack of enthusiasm of the audience. Luckily, she was such a pretty sight in her blue-green mermaid themed dress – fashion was all about the ocean ever since Finnick’s victory – the camera alternated between her and Finnick, thus missing the mild-warmth reception of the District’s people.

The huge screen turned to black and most of the cameras were turned off when the live feed stopped. They would shoot during the tour of the District and the dinner party but the footage would be cut and edited before being aired. People started drifting off the Square slowly, directed by the Peacekeepers to avoid crowd movements, and Mayor Undersee was quick to go back inside, as were most of the people on stage.

Effie lingered, her eyes turning to the two areas where the families of their lost tributes were crammed. Her smile faltered.

“I know what you’re thinking but they don’t want to talk to us. It wouldn’t help.” Hayden said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder, probably to soften the blow of what came next. “We failed them in their mind.”

“We failed them _period_.” she corrected in a murmur.

He squeezed her shoulder and then let go. “It doesn’t help to dwell on it.”

“How do you not?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

Hayden shrugged. “I try not to let it consume me. I have zero intention to become like my brother.”

Her eyes followed his gaze to find Haymitch still talking to Mags, an uncharacteristic serious frown on his face.

“Is everything ready for your big party?” Hayden asked, clearly deciding a switch of topic was in order.

“I do hope so.” she sighed. Her last resort solution had been to make a cook come from the Capitol, the best – and the most expensive – there was. Twelve had paid only a third of his wages, the rest had come from her own pocket. It was alright, she figured, it simply meant she would need to go slow on shopping and outings for a month or two. It would do nothing for the small quantities of food or for its more than questionable quality but that man was rumored to work miracle and she fully expected one. Mayor Undersee had done his part by providing the deer – or rather a man she had barely glimpsed with dark black hair and grey eyes had provided the deer.

The really difficult part had been to convince the authorities to authorize the cook to travel to Twelve. She had to phone at least five different people, wait for hours, and be a little less charming and a little more aggressive at times before someone finally passed the phone to President Snow’s personal assistant. After hours of explaining her case, the woman had listen to thirty seconds of her speech, had asked her to wait for a minutes and had come back after ten minutes to tell her the President would grant her request but that the dinner better look good on camera. The cook had arrived in the nick of time that morning.

“It reminds me…” Effie suddenly said. “Which one of you is coming tonight?”

“Not me.” Hayden refused quickly.

As if summoned by the wind of bad news, Haymitch appeared next to her, having clearly heard the question.

“No way.” he grumbled.

“Since when do _you_ pass on a dinner party?” his brother snorted.

“Not my kind of dinner party.” Haymitch mumbled.

“I need one of you with me.” she insisted, glaring at them in turn for being unhelpful. “I can’t very well go alone. It won’t do. And the more people see you on TV, the best it is. It will help them remember you next season when the Games start again.”

She didn’t need to explain what that could mean in terms of sponsors.

“Didn’t we agree Haymitch would do the public work?” Hayden grinned. “Interviews and such? Well… That’s _such_.”

“No way.” Haymitch refused again.

Effie was at the end of her tether : she hated when they fought but when they were friendly, they were even worse to handle. “One of you, it is non negotiable. _Decide_. And while we are at it, the one who comes to the dinner tonight will also come with me for the district’s visit. It will give us more screening time.”

The brothers exchanged a long suffering look and then without anything being said put their right hand behind their back. Effie watched, puzzled, as they counted to three only to show their hand to the other. If it was a game, it was none she was familiar with. Haymitch let out a groan when a beaming Hayden covered his fist with his spread hand.

“Paper wins.” the younger brother said, delighted. “Have fun!”

He fled before one of them could catch him, jumping from the stage directly into the Square. Effie almost scolded him for the lack of decorum but he was already a few feet away and she didn’t want to raise her voice.

“Well…” she smiled. “It looks like it’s you and me, Haymitch.”

“Joy.” he drawled out as if the prospect was painful.

Effie narrowed her eyes at him in warning even though she didn’t have time for a lecture : Adelais, Four’s escort, was fretting over Finnick, adjusting his scarf and soothing the lapels of his coat. Effie clapped her hands twice, forcing the smile back on her lips.

“If you would proceed to the back of the building, the cars are ready to take us for the visit.” she announced. They were on a tight schedule, there. One hour and a half – two at most – to visit the main parts of Twelve, those she wasn’t ashamed of showing on camera at least, and then two more hours to get ready for the party.

“ _Proceed,_ Princess.” Haymitch mocked, gesturing at her to go first.

Adelais pouted in disapproval and Effie hurried to her, hoping to distract her. The other escort was quite older, closing on retirement – escorts rarely lasted longer than their thirty-fifth birthday – and didn’t look very impressed by Haymitch’s behavior. Mayor Undersee let her take charge, lingering behind with the stylist while Twelve’s senior victor went back to his chat with Mags. Finnick tagged along with Adelais, peering at Effie when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“You’re very pretty.” he said, interrupting the painfully one-sided conversation with Adelais.

“Thank you.” Effie replied politely.

Finnick must have taken that as a sign she was interested in more chatting because he placed himself in front of her, walking backward and very much only avoiding colliding with a wall by a inch. Effie pressed her lips together not to snicker. It wouldn’t have been very polite.

The grin Finnick flashed her was wolfish. “By pretty, I mean you’re hot.”

Adelais clicked her tongue disapprovingly and hissed at him to behave but the boy was clearly having too much fun to be ruled in.

“I am aware.” Effie replied, a little amused. “I am also aware you are young enough to be my brother so I’m afraid this is quite hopeless.”

He shook his head, his eyes bright with mirth and his grin only growing deeper. “Ours will be a very tragic love story.”

“Your story will be tragic if you don’t look where you’re going and fall on your backside.” Mags declared from behind Effie. “What did I say about inappropriate flirting, Finnick? We aren’t in Four anymore and Miss Trinket isn’t one of your shell salesgirls.”

Finnick’s smile slipped. He lowered his eyes, the picture of repentance. “Sorry.”

Effie wasn’t fooled for one single second.

“It wasn’t bad, boy.” Haymitch chuckled. “But Trinket is used to better pick-up lines.”

She didn’t quite know what to do with the possessive arm he suddenly wrapped around her shoulders so she settled for glaring at him and shrugged it off as the earliest opportunity.

Adelais rolled her eyes and Effie knew rumors would kick in as soon as the other escort would manage to put her hand on a phone.

Fortunately for her, with the occasional reminder, both Finnick and Haymitch behaved for the rest of the day. They went on like two peas in a pod and it wasn’t long before the boy was trailing after Haymitch like a lovestruck puppy. Effie found it both cute and very useful since that granted Twelve’s victor some visibility. By the time they reached the mine, their final destination, her feet were killing her and all she wanted was a hot bubble bath. That wasn’t to be though. She escorted Four’s team back to the Justice Building and then dragged Haymitch back to the house to change.

A domestic must have taken place after she had left that morning because Iris greeted her with a smile but didn’t acknowledge Haymitch. He had been in a good mood until then but it plummeted down quickly. She left them to it after inspecting the suit he was planning to wear – or rather that she _forced_ him to plan on wearing because he was all for not changing clothes.

Getting ready for a dinner party took time on the best day but in Twelve where everything was so rudimentary, it was almost an impossible mission. Ten times she told herself she should have remained on the train instead of accepting Iris’ offer but, practice and determination finally winning, she managed to get into her corset, an exquisite dress that alluded to foam – and in which she knew she would be freezing long before the appetizers were over with – and her mint green wig. The make-up was a little easier : wash off the day powder and carefully build herself a new face with shadows and hues of blue. Blue and green were the big colors that year so she went overboard with them : eye shadow, lipstick, fake eyelashes… She completed the outfit with a seashell necklace and earrings. She added the trident pin to her hair after much consideration about the statement it would give.

Haymitch was already downstairs when she exited her room – or Hayden’s room, rather since she had chased him out of it – very engaged in a game of silence with the rest of his family. Tension clearly ran high and she cleared her throat, happy not to have to bear it all evening.

They all stared.

“Well…” Haymitch, of course, recovered first. “I can’t tell if you look like a trout or a corpse.”

“Haymitch!” Iris and Hayden hissed at once and as one.

“You have no fashion sense.” she huffed. “Now let me look at you.”

She completely ignored his protests about her trying to strangle him when she knotted his tie with a more fashionable flourish.

He grumbled all the way to the Justice Building – and it was _a long_ way because her heels and the dress coupled with the heavy coat of snow only allowed her a slow pace – and he grumbled even more once inside when she told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t, under _any_ circumstances, to get drunk. Tipsy was alright, she granted, but certainly _not_ drunk.

She shouldn’t have worried too much about that. The second Finnick spotted him, his face lighted up, the boredom of nodding to whatever Mayor Undersee was ranting about disappearing by magic. The boy trotted to them and, once again, followed Haymitch everywhere despite Adelais’ best attempts at making him mingle.

Effie watched the scene from the drink table, her flute of cider – the best refined alcohol Mayor Undersee could find – forgotten in her hand. She had overworked those last few days and she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep. She should have mingled too, be caught on camera laughing with Finnick or Mags or someone else, maybe try to court the stylist into coming to work for Twelve as desperate a task as that might have been… But she was too tired to move so she remained there, unseen and forgotten, simply happy to watch Finnick trailing after Haymitch. Clearly, her victor didn’t know what to do about his shadow problem at first, he looked guarded, but then he relaxed and she didn’t know what he was saying – probably improper things she wouldn’t have approved of – but the boy started laughing. She realized that was the big brother he was supposed to be, not the cold aloof persona he was adopting with Hayden. _That_ was who he was inside.

“His father died when he was very young.”

Effie startled, almost losing her grip on her cider.  

“Sorry.” Mags said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Effie didn’t know how old exactly the woman was – in her seventieth probably – but she looked like the perfect grandmother to her. Her smile and her eyes were kind and it would be really easy to be fooled by the gentle, inoffensive appearance. Effie had been a model for years though, she had learned to read people’s intentions the hard way – you never knew which model was ready to stab you in the back to take your place – and she could see the iron underneath the presented softness.

“It’s quite alright. I’m afraid I was daydreaming.” Effie waved her apologies away. “Haymitch’s father, you mean?”

She looked back at her victor with open interest. She had never thought to ask Hayden or Iris where the boys’ father was…

“Finnick’s.” Mags corrected. “He has a tendency to look for male role models.”

It certainly explained his newfound admiration for Haymitch, she supposed.

“I’m not sure Haymitch is the ideal candidate for that.” She softened her statement with a smile but she saw Mags was displeased with her answer. The old woman looked annoyed – or protective…

“He likes you.” Four’s victor declared.

“Finnick?” she frowned.

Mags didn’t answer but her gaze hardened. “Haymitch says you aren’t the kind for… special appointments. You look the part to me.” Effie could feel anger reddening her cheeks and hoped the make-up was hiding it, she opened her mouth to defend herself but Mags lifted her hand, indicating she wasn’t done. “There is nothing I can do for Haymitch but I intend to keep Finnick as far away from that for as long as I can. Don’t take advantage of my boy’s soft spot for you, Miss Trinket. Neither of them. You wouldn’t like the outcome.”

The old victor peacefully walked away with a swiftness nobody would expect from someone her age, leaving Effie to gape after her. Had she just been threatened by a seventy years old woman about..

Mayor Undersee asked everyone to take a seat at the dinner table and Effie had no more time to ponder the thought. Wedged between one of Twelve’s representative and a man from Finnick’s prep team, she did her best to be talkative but she spent the whole dinner apprehensive something would go wrong or that someone would comment upon the less than stellar food. Haymitch who was sitting further down, closer to Finnick, kept giving her inquisitive glances but she pretended not to see them. She laughed loud, smiled bright and batted her eyelashes.

She had never been as relieved as when they finally said their goodbyes. Adelais expressed some surprise that she was staying with her victors instead of on the train; Effie had no trouble imagining her adding it to the list of things the woman needed to gossip about with whoever was available.

“He’s a peacock.” Haymitch commented with some fondness when she asked what he thought of Finnick.

She didn’t share Mags’ threats with him, she didn’t see the point. He would either laugh it off or rant about meddlesome old women.

Still, as she went to bed that night, she pondered just what it was Mags saw that she hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ! Please do tell me your thoughts =)


	17. Chapter 17

Goodbyes weren’t Haymitch’s things but still, he would have appreciated if his family had managed a smile. His mother had fussed more over Trinket’s departure than his own so he would understand, with full clarity, just how much she disapproved of his leaving for the Capitol and Hayden had only bothered to escort him to the station because it meant escorting Trinket too. _She_ was granted a long goodbye with a lot of promises to call and keep each other updated.

Haymitch took full advantage of her momentary distraction to snatch a few bottles from the bar cart directly into his room. The trip to the Capitol took around fifteen hours, he intended to spend them all getting _very_ drunk. He paced himself though, trying to make the bottles last in fear he would have to crawl out of his cabin for more and he would meet the disapproving face of Effie Trinket.

Everything went according to plan and he enjoyed several hours of peace until the train stopped for refueling sometime around midnight. He wasn’t expecting the soft knocking on the door, knowing from experience nobody ever disturbed passengers in the middle of the night except in case of emergency. They were somewhere in Six, he could hear the clinking of tools outside and the good natured laughter of the workers… There was no emergency. Which meant it could only be _one_ person and he really didn’t want to deal with whatever nonsense she would pour on him. He didn’t answer and kept very still.

“I can see the light, Haymitch. I know you’re not asleep.” Trinket said with a sigh that let him know she thought he was being unnecessarily difficult. “Open the door.”

Rolling his eyes, he carefully hid his bottle of whiskey under his pillow and waddled to the wooden door – his balance wasn’t _all_ there but his mind was still clear.

“What?” he scowled, almost ripping it open.

She was still wearing her ridiculous green wig and the same turquoise dress from earlier. She didn’t look particularly surprised to find him only in sweatpants on but it _was_ midnight and he figured nightclothes made much more sense than still being dressed.

“I was wondering if you fancied a cigarette.” she offered with an odd sort of calm.

“I don’t smoke.” he grumbled, before noticing that her hands were empty. As for the dress, it was so tight there was no way it had pockets. He frowned and met her eyes, she simply lifted her eyebrows. A smirk stretched his lips without his consent - she was learning then. He shrugged. “’Could use the fresh air though.”

Whatever she wanted to talk to him about, it must have been good for her to make sure no bugs could pick it up. He put on a shirt, grabbed a woolen dressing gown he had found earlier in the dresser, and stepped into his shoes without bothering to lace them before nodding at her to go ahead. He grabbed his jacket as an afterthought and handed it to her before they climbed out of the train. For someone so uptight about schedules, you would think she would remember to put on a coat.

His jacket was much too big on her, she was lost in the fabric. It was strangely endearing in a way he didn’t consider for more than two seconds.

“So?” he prompted. “We’re freezing our asses out here because…”

“Because I might very well be a genius.” she beamed.

“Keyword is _might_.” he snorted, leaning against the side of the train to look at her.

She was _so_ ridiculous and for more than one reason. There were the obvious, of course: the make-up, the Capitol mannerism that had been so obviously drilled into her from birth that she was bordering on being a human caricature… And then, there were the most subtle things like the way she sometimes got enthusiastic over nothing or her insistence on optimism in every damned situation. He hadn’t known her for long at all and yet he had her already figured out – or he _thought_ he had, she had surprised him more than once already, perhaps that was why he found her not as intolerable as most of the other escorts.

“I have been doing some thinking…” she continued after throwing him a scolding dark look.

“Did it hurt?” he interrupted again. She whacked him on the arm this time. It was like being kicked by a kitten, he barely felt it under the heavy dressing gown. “Alright.” he drawled out, rolling his eyes. “Go on. Tell me everything about the secret plan for which I’m going to catch pneumonia.”

She didn’t take the bait, obviously too pleased about her idea to care what he thought about the cloak and daggers stuff. She clasped his hand in hers – and it was sort of a shock because her hands were tiny and cold but she had a good grip for someone this small when she wasn’t wearing heels.

“I’m going to buy you.”

He froze.

He could have sworn every little part of him – right down to the very cells of his being – froze. His stomach churned with something that unexpectedly felt like betrayal.

“Isn’t it a wonderful idea?” she insisted faced with his lack of reaction. His face, he knew, was probably unreadable to her, closed like he had learned to do long ago to protect himself from the vultures lurking in the Capitol. She tugged on his hand gently, maybe unconsciously. “Actually, Mags gave me the idea. Not that it was what she meant, of course, but… I was thinking about what she said and about you and… It made perfect sense! I’m going to buy you! How expensive are you? Oh, no matter… I can borrow some money from Father if I’m short… That cook _did_ put a dent in my budget but it doesn’t matter… I will…”

Another thing that was ridiculous was her tendency to babble with a fake cheer when she was feeling ill-at-ease.

“You don’t need to _pay_.” he spat. “You already have me by the balls with my secrets.”

He wanted to snatch his hand away from hers but thought better of it. Women never reacted well faced with rejection and if she really wanted to pull the blackmail card, she could become dangerous. It meant he would need to get rid of her one way or another, find a new escort, face Hayden’s reproaches… And _what the hell_ had Mags said to her?

“I beg your pardon?” Trinket frowned, searching his face in the dark. She didn’t know what she found there but she gasped softly and gripped his hand harder. “Oh, _no_! No, no, no! I don’t mean…” Her voice trailed off and she briefly bit her bottom lip. “I meant I could buy you for the duration of your stay so nobody else could. You wouldn’t have to… You wouldn’t have to actually _do_ anything. You could even give me the money back if it makes you feel better. I just thought it would help… It’s a perfect solution. Well, it is if you trust me and I promise you I would never abuse…”

He placed his free hand on her mouth to stop the logorrhea. It was his hand or his lips and, really, kissing her right at that moment would have been the worst idea he ever had and he had had a few of those.

“You talk too much.” he commented.

His fingers lingered on her lips before he dropped them, it smudged her lipstick a bit.

“So I have been told.” she breathed out with a small smile. “What do you think about my idea then? I don’t know how it all works but I can find out and…”

“It’s… _sweet_ , Princess.” He tried not to come out as his usual mocking self because as stupid as her idea was it was genuinely meant. “But they won’t let you. You don’t have the kind of influence it takes to a buy a victor.”

She pouted. “Are you sure? I _have_ money. My family is rather wealthy.”

He would bet. She was the archetype of the spoiled brat.

He squeezed her fingers. It occurred to him he really ought to shrug her off now but he couldn’t quite resolve himself to it. What she was offering was beyond generous if she _really_ didn’t expect anything in return – and he believed her when she said she didn’t – it was certainly more than anyone had ever offered to do for him. It had been some time since someone had wanted to have his back, ever since the arena and Maysilee… He didn’t know how he felt about the natural comparison in his mind. He didn’t know how to feel about it all.

“It won’t work.” he repeated, certain of himself.

She lowered her head, clearly disappointed and, perhaps, even saddened. “What else can I do?”

It was a whisper and it barely carried to him at all even though she was standing rather close. He could still hear the workers calling each other and laughing in the distance. Haymitch sighed and let his head fall back against the side of the train, looking up at the myriad of stars lighting the sky. There were no stars in the Capitol, he mused, the city destroyed everything natural.

“Why do you have to do anything?” he asked, his breath rising in a white puffy cloud.

“I want to help.” she almost pleaded. “I want to help you, Haymitch.”

“Why?” he repeated again.

Her fingers clenched his hand in what felt like a spasm.

“Because it isn’t right.” she said in a rush. “I can’t stand there and watch you being…”

“Then look away.” he snarled before she could utter a word he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t need labels. He didn’t need _anything_ and certainly not that discussion. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

“Haymitch.” she insisted. One of her hand wandered higher, coiled around his wrist…

“You want to help?” he growled. “Let me get drunk when I feel like it.”

“But it’s destroying you.” she argued softly. “Your mother is really concerned about you and so is your brother. They think you’re addicted and… And I’m afraid they might be right.”

He didn’t even try to reign in his chuckles. Of all the things to worry about…

“I’m not a drunkard.” he refuted at last. “Look, sweetheart, I’m the first to admit I drown my problems into a bottle but I’m not at the point when I need it every second of every _fucking_ day yet. I’m not addicted. I would like nothing much but I can’t afford it, can I? Drunkards do mistakes. ‘Can’t afford a mistake.”

She didn’t look convinced but she didn’t press the point.  

“Language.” she chided him without any real rebuke.

He studied her features in the dark and regretted for a heartbeat that she was wearing that make-up although it was probably for the best. Nights like this one, bright stars above and pretty ladies like Effie Trinket… It was a night for mistakes.

“If you really wanna help, I guess I could use a friend.” he said without exactly knowing why. He handpicked his friends carefully and he had enough of those already.

Her smile was slow but sincere. “I can do that.”

“Alright then.” he smirked. “Now let’s go back inside before you catch your death.”

Her shivers were threatening to become full shudders.

It wasn’t before they were back on the train and they stopped at his door that he realized they were still holding hands. He let got quickly, wondering what was wrong with him. He barely replied to her goodnight when she wandered past his door to her own room and he went straight to the whiskey hidden under his pillow.

That woman was trouble.

He had known that from the very start. None of the other escorts had ever given him a dressing down after five minutes of acquaintance because he was making innuendos.

Still, the prospect of what was looming ahead quickly surpassed the strange mystery that was Trinket and he gulped down as much alcohol as he could.

When the train arrived in the Capitol around ten in the morning, he was puking his insides out in his en-suite bathroom.

The following weeks proved his fears to be unfunded though.

He wasn’t the only victor brought to the Capitol to appease the crowd : the last three winners before Finnick had been asked to come back too and Enobaria, Gloss and Cashmere were doing the show much more than Haymitch and the few other victors from outer District could do. They were popular, probably because they were young and, unlike the others, actually _enjoyed_ life in the city instead of just faking it.

Fortunately, _special_ _appointments_ remained few, people just weren’t interested. There was a frenzy for the Games that had never reached such peaks outside of Games season. People in the Capitol were riveted to their TV each time live feeds of the Victory Tour were broadcasted; as for the victors brought back to the city, they were paraded around clubs, restaurants and all around the Capitol. Haymitch had seen worse and he was relieved to be asked to simply attend parties and distract the crowd in front of cameras for the night. Most of the times, Trinket accompanied him and, more often than not, they ended up arguing over something or other which the cameras just _loved_. They played with it because, as she insisted, it gave Twelve some much-needed attention.

His escort wasn’t staying at the penthouse but she certainly was a frequent visitor. He rolled his eyes and told her to call Hayden when she started ranting about stylists – which was almost every day – but he secretly enjoyed seeing her getting worked up over nothing. It reached a peak the day she lost Tigris to District Ten, she had been so busy fighting over the woman with Eleven’s escort, neither of them had seen Ten’s sneaking around and securing the deal behind their back.

It was fun to watch Trinket pace for hours, almost tearing her wig off her head in her frustration, cursing Talila Glendsforth to hell and back. It was even more fun when she phoned Hayden and started ranting all over again. Haymitch remained slumped on the couch, sipping from his drink and wondering if her heels would leave a dent on the carpet from her coming and going.

Predictably, once he was over the initial disappointment, Hayden had told her everything she wanted to hear about how it wasn’t her fault and how she had done her best. Haymitch simply commented that her best clearly wasn’t enough and that she needed to learn how to be sneakier than other escorts. She left in a huff after that and gave him the cold shoulder for days.

All in all, Haymitch had experienced worst times in the Capitol. He certainly would have liked being in Twelve better and he certainly regretted the absence of some other victors – because he would never _ever_ understand Enobaria or the brother and sister from Two – but Trinket’s presence, as annoying as it sometimes was, made his stay less lonely. Yet he still saw the Victory Tour coming to a close with unhidden relief. Finnick was in One, he would reach the Capitol in less than two days and after the banquet at the Presidential Mansion, Haymitch would be free to go back home.

 _If_ he survived Trinket’s whining, that was.

“Everyone has an invitation, Haymitch. _Everyone_.”

She had been complaining for over fifteen minutes while Haymitch drank, slumped on the couch. He had learned to tune out her voice when she was in that mood because she talked and talked _and talked._

“ _Viola_ got herself an invitation. I’m sure she stole it.” she continued with much vehemence. “I’m the only escort who won’t attend. Can you imagine this? _The_ _humiliation_! My _sister_ will be there and _she_ isn’t an escort, she simply has a rich husband. _I_ should be at that party, Haymitch. _I_ am an escort, it’s not right not to invite all the escorts. It’s not fair!”

Instead of reminding her that life wasn’t fair, he chose to focus on the important part. “You have a sister?”

He should just have kept ignoring her.

“Is that the point?” she snapped. “Are you even listening to me? It will be humiliating! This is _the_ party of the year, it’s _the_ _place_ _to_ _be_! And where will _I_ be ? At home, eating ice-cream and watching a _Capitol’s Best Singer_ re-run.” With an exaggerated sigh, she flopped down on an armchair. “My life is over.”

“Cut the melodrama.” he mumbled, taking another sip of whiskey.

“Easy for _you_ to say. Nobody is going to snicker behind your back about you being the only escort not to attend the Presidential party.” she lamented.

“Sure.” he chuckled. “Because _I_ have an invitation.”

If glares could kill, he would already be dead.

“Nobody likes a bragger, Haymitch.” she hissed.

“It’s a plus one invitation.” he clarified.

Her whole demeanor changed in a matter of seconds. She moved so fast he wasn’t even sure she hadn’t simply popped out of existence on the armchair to reappear on the couch next to him. She was sitting much too close and her eyes were _much_ too determined.

“You will take me, won’t you?” she pleaded.

The smirk was instinctive.

“Why, sweetheart…” he taunted. “I had no idea you felt that way…”

“Oh, take your mind out of the gutter!” she huffed, rolling her eyes at him. “Will you take me? _Please_.”

He let her beg for several more minutes, keeping to himself that he had been planning on asking her all along anyway – there was no way he could survive a whole evening of stupid people parading around a room without her absurdity to make it bearable.

“One condition.” he said. “You’re not wearing blue. Or greenish blue. No blue.”

He was _sick_ of water-themed clothes. The whole city looked blue. People looked like corpses.

“But… But… It’s the latest fashion!” she protested.

“You want to come, you wear anything other than blue.” he shrugged.

She glared but relented.

She wore a light purple with bluish highlights in the end.

The party was a sham as it always was. Saved for Finnick’s and Mags’ pleasant company and his regular bickering with Trinket, Haymitch was bored out of his mind.

The only distraction was watching the purple of her dress brush against every shade of blue imaginable and wonder what it was about her that was so _damned_ fascinating that she had managed to befriend not only Hayden but him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved it? Hated it? Please, leave a comment! Feedback makes my day ;)


	18. Chapter 18

The sixty-sixth Hunger Games Reaping was uneventful despite Effie’s best attempts to put some cheer into it.

The sixteen year old girl, Heather, and the fifteen year old boy, Gaius, both looked sullen, and dragged their feet all the way to the stage, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. They stood slouched on either side of Effie when she called out their names and instead of the thunderous applause tributes got in richer Districts, all that could be heard was the sound of faint clapping.

She vowed to talk to Mayor Undersee about the lack of enthusiasm of his constituency.

When the live feed stopped and she finally allowed her smile to become less strained, she turned around to find her two victors looking just as gloomy as their new set of tributes.

“Would it kill you both to smile?” she snapped while the mayor and the Head Peacekeeper ushered the children in the Justice Building so they could say their goodbyes. “Put some effort into it at least!”

“Someone’s in a mood.” Haymitch snorted.

Effie glared at him but was mellowed by the hand Hayden rested on her arm.

“Sorry.” the junior victor said not very sincerely but, at least, it was an attempt at pacifying her.

“No, it is me who should apologize….” she refuted with a sigh. “We will need to coach the children on the way to the Capitol… They can’t appear in public behaving like that…”

“Like what?” Haymitch lifted his eyebrows. “No tears, no yelling… I would say it went well.”

“They were slouching, Haymitch.” She shook her head. “ _Nobody_ will sponsor someone who slouches.”

The two brothers looked at each other and then back at her.

“Sure…” Haymitch drawled out.

“Yes, you’re right.” Hayden nodded with too much energy.

Effie narrowed her eyes at them. “Are you two mocking me?”

“No.” Hayden denied right when Haymitch said “What do you think?”

She huffed, turned on her heels and hurried inside, leaving them there. It would teach them.

The trip from the Justice Building to the train went without an itch. She tried to engage the tributes in a discussion but they both kept stern faces and didn’t open their mouth to answer her. She finally followed Hayden’s whispered advice and left them alone to process what was happening to them after showing them to their room.

Hayden was in the living-room car and gave her a small smile when she entered.

“I will give them half an hour and then I will talk to them.” he said, rubbing his face. “Please, don’t start lecturing them about manners and such today, it’s…”

“We will reach the Capitol tomorrow morning. The quicker they learn basic proper behavior, the best chances they will have with sponsors.” she argued.

“So you say…” he winced “But Haymitch didn’t need that and I didn’t either. I really don’t think…”

His voice trailed off and Effie chose not to understand he was dismissing her opinion on the matter.

“Come with me, please.” she requested.

He frowned but followed her without question. They reached the bar car just as the train jerked its way off to the city. Haymitch’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up when he spotted them. The glass of whiskey paused briefly on his way to his lips but he downed it efficiently and slid it to the Avox behind the bar in an unspoken request for more.

“What’s up?” he asked them.

“Have a seat, Hayden.” she demanded.

“Good boy.” Haymitch snickered when his brother sat on a stool without protest. Still, he turned on the stool and leaned his back against the bar to watch her.

Effie ignored him. She remained standing in front of them, surveying both of them in turns. Iris Abernathy never would have let them attend the Reaping in nothing less than suitable clothes so, at least, they were fit to be seen. Hayden’s, as usual, looked prim and proper : black pants, white pressed shirt and a navy tie. Haymitch, unsurprisingly, had been wearing a light grey shirt that was clean and pressed but at least two years old, no tie and ruffled hair that clearly hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. How they could look so different and at the same time so similar, she didn’t know.

“After last year, I have done some thinking and came to the conclusion that we need a better organization.” she started her several times rehearsed speech. “Hayden, it was clear to me that you are used to do things your own way and by yourself which is all the more commendable.”

“I was grateful for your help last year, Effie. I _am_ grateful.” Hayden frowned.

“Thank you, dear.” she smiled. “Now… As I said, I have been thinking…”

“’Thought we agreed that wasn’t good for you?” Haymitch snorted.

Hayden kicked him not so discreetly in the shin and he rolled his eyes but motioned for her to continue.

“Now, I understand Haymitch has no wish to mentor which suits us perfectly because Hayden is very good at it.” she went on. “ _But_ making sure our tributes are ready will only bring us so far and from what I observed last year what Twelve is truly lacking is a solid PR approach.”

“That’s _your_ job.” Haymitch pointed out.

“Precisely, I am glad you agree.” she beamed. “Now, I have come up with a plan that I hope will help us gain more visibility. First of all, we need to take drastic measures to rekindle Haymitch’s public image with Twelve in people’s mind.” The victor groaned but Effie didn’t let that disturb her. “From now on, you will attend important public events with Hayden and me, not with Chaff or whoever strikes your fancy in the mentors’ lounge but with _us_ , outside, in public, and you will smile and make sure everyone understand you are part of the team. It starts with the red carpet before the Opening Ceremony.” She didn’t give him time to protest before going on. “You will also be present for the interviews with Hayden and I. And the default victor for statement won’t be Hayden anymore but you. You are the senior victor, you are the most popular – sorry, Hayden – _you_ are our best chance of ever getting sponsors.”

“Then it’s a sad day for you.” Haymitch grumbled.

“I won’t ask you to chase sponsors with us, I believe Hayden and I can handle that on our own but it wouldn’t hurt to hint and advertize during your partying.” she concluded. “I do believe all we need is a better coverage.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if we didn’t have to compete against beefy eighteen years old.” Hayden remarked. “One and Two…”

“You are _much_ too focused on the actual arena, Hayden. I noticed last year.” she cut him off, folding her arms over her chest. “What happens in the arena is out of our control. What we _can_ control is the measure of help we can bring those children…”

Her declaration was greeted with silence.

Hayden looked down and then up again with a tense expression. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Effie, but you’ve been an escort for only a year and…”

“She’s right.” Haymitch said.

His brother turned to him with a disbelieving face. “What?”

“She’s right.” he repeated with a shrug, his grey eyes darted from Hayden to her. “But that doesn’t change anything, sweetheart. There’s no use putting up a fight for kids who won’t last in the long run. It only makes them die slower and it gives the Capitol a better show.”

“The odds should be fair and if there is something we can do to try and win, we should do it.” she argued.

“What do you _mean_ , she’s right?” Hayden insisted, staring at his brother. “When I took over from you, you said I should stress the mentoring, that the sponsors would never go for Twelve anyway…”

“They certainly won’t if we keep working as you two have.” Effie cut in. “Now, don’t fight, I don’t want to play referee so soon. Are we all in agreement?”

Haymitch grabbed his glass and made the whiskey twirl for a few seconds, gazing wistfully at the amber liquid. “You’re aware technically we’re your bosses, right? You’re supposed to do what we tell you, not the other way around.”

She grinned. “I am better at giving orders than following them. Besides, I am right and you know it.”

“Point.” Haymitch shrugged before downing his glass. “Your choice.”

The last part was aimed at Hayden who looked slightly displeased but Effie couldn’t have said why. His eyes kept moving from his brother to her.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to give it a shot.” he gave in at last. “Now if you will both excuse me I will go see the kids. You know, stick to the mentoring part. The only thing I’m good at, apparently.”

He was gone before Effie could ask him what was wrong.

“Was it something I said?” she winced. Hayden had a tendency to be touchy-feely when compared to Haymitch, she had noticed before, and she had thought praising his mentoring skills – which, admittedly were very good – would be the best way to outright announce they needed to use Haymitch’s fame.

“Don’t mind him.” Haymitch rolled his eyes, turning back on his stool to face the Avox who looked unperturbed by the whole scene. “Temper tantrums, remember?”

“I do remember pointing out you have no room to lecture on such behavior yourself.” she retorted.

“You’re no fun, Trinket.” he snorted.

Mentoring skills and temper tantrums aside, it soon appeared clear to her that this year would be much more difficult than the last. The tributes were very dismissive of her, completely ignored her pleas for them to use proper cutlery – and Haymitch didn’t help when he started eating with his fingers too – and were very confrontational. Hayden beared the brunt of their resentment with calm but by the time they finally reached the Capitol the next morning and parted ways, he was very frustrated. Effie wasn’t far behind on that sentiment, despite each of her advices and indications, both Heather and Gaius lowered their heads and dragged their feet when they got off the train, refusing to wave at the crowd like Hayden told them to.

“On the bright side, I don’t see one of them clinging to your skirt this year.” Haymitch snorted in her ear as their tributes were whisked away to the Remake Center.

“Behave.” she ordered absent-mindedly.

“Yes, Ma’am.” he sneered with a mocking salute.

The huge waiting room where mentors, escorts and Gamemakers gathered right before the red carpet that marked the start of the Opening Ceremony was already crowded by the time they arrived. Haymitch made a beeline for Eleven’s team, leaving no choice for Effie and Hayden but to follow or lose him forever – Effie didn’t trust him to come back.

Chaff obviously viewed the arrival of the whole team as something of a surprise but he recovered quickly enough by hugging her in a most familiar fashion. It was better than the previous year kiss on the mouth but not by much.

“If you wish to keep your only remaining hand, I suggest you take it away now.” she hissed, breaking the awkward embrace.

Chaff stopped groping her and raised both hand and lump in the air in a peaceful gesture, a smirk on his lips and an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“You will have to excuse him, he has no idea how to behave with a woman.” Eleven’s other victor offered. The older woman offered her a hand. “We haven’t been introduced.”

“Seeder.” Effie breathed out, shaking her hand with enthusiasm.

“I think that’s my name.” the victor joked.

“Oh, yes, absolutely!” she laughed, confused. “I _do_ apologize, it’s just you were a favorite of mine growing up and…” She made an embarrassed gesture. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, really.”

She was vaguely aware of Hayden greeting Chaff tersely in her sight periphery.

“Likewise.” Seeder offered. “I heard a lot about you.”

“From?” Haymitch cut in suddenly.

Effie startled a bit because he had been standing next to Hayden less than two seconds earlier. The junior victor was still talking with Chaff and was doing a bad job at hiding just how much of a chore it was. Haymitch, on the other hand, looked defensive.

“Mags.” Seeder replied.

“Ah, yeah…” he growled in answer. “It seems she’s been doing an awful lot of talking during the Tour. ‘Not sure she got the right idea, though.”

“Oh, I think she did.” Seeder chuckled, clearly amused. “But you know how we, old women, are. We love a bit of gossip.”

Effie wasn’t sure what was happening. The situation felt tense but she didn’t know where it had come from.

“You’re certainly not old yet.” she laughed, hoping to lighten the mood.

Nobody laughed with her and Haymitch didn’t relax.

“Find something else to gossip about.” he advised Seeder, before placing a hand at the small of Effie’s back and nudging her away. “Come on, it’s about to start.” He grabbed Hayden’s arm with his other hand and steered them both away.

“What’s going on?” Hayden asked her in a rushed whisper.

“A very good question…” she answered in the same tone.

She didn’t have the luxury to find out though. Head Gamemaker Torello called everyone to order and the ceremony started. The Gamemakers walked out first, waving and smiling at the crowd and then it was the Districts’ turn. By the time Twelve’s turn came up, the crowd was chanting for the beginning of the actual Opening Ceremony with the parade of the chariots.

Their stylists found them long enough for Effie to introduce them to Hayden and Haymitch – she could tell both brothers disliked them on sight but finding stylists who would work with them had proved difficult enough so she smiled and tried to cover up any awkwardness – they declined to sit with them, as if ashamed of being associated with Twelve.

“Next year…” Hayden started as they began the climb of the City Circle to their assigned rows of seats.

“Yes, I know.” she said in a clipped tone. If he thought it was easy… The good stylists were taken and District teams tended to cling to their stylists – and stylists usually were happy to stay where they were.

“Haymitch!”

The three of them turned at the call of the senior victor’s name, not that the origin of the shout was difficult to find. Finnick appeared quite suddenly in front of them, a face-eating grin on his lips and his blond hair artfully tousled by the wind – the messed-up style was studied, Effie couldn’t help but think with a lamenting glance at Haymitch’s head.

“Effie, still looking hot.” Finnick winked at her.

“This is _still_ inappropriate.” she replied, softening her gentle rebuke with a smile.

“Wait a few years.” Four’s latest victor laughed, glancing curiously at Hayden. “We didn’t get to talk in Twelve. I’m Finnick. I’m your new enemy.”

Effie barely managed to hide her surprise. That was news to her… She didn’t know Finnick would act as a mentor that year. She had assumed he would simply come along for the ride.

Hayden shook his hand with a small frown. “Aren’t you a little young to be already mentoring?”

“Young but full of experience.” Finnick retorted defensively. A shadow fell on his face and his grin faltered for a second but Effie blinked and it was over, he looked just as dashing and joyful as a few moments before.

“Still…” Hayden insisted. “You shouldn’t…”

“You just met him, Hayden, cut him some slack.” Haymitch snapped.

Hayden abruptly fell silent.

Effie could feel the tension creep up a notch again for completely different reasons. She had witnessed them arguing a lot of times but she had rarely seen Haymitch being so direct about it.

No doubt Finnick picked up on the shift in the mood too because he started talking again, addressing Haymitch rather than his brother.

“I brought you a bottle of the booze I was telling you about the other time.” the boy said with unchecked excitement. “But you _can’t_ tell Mags or she will ground me forever.” He suddenly tossed Effie and Hayden a pleading look. “You won’t tell either, yeah? You would think she would leave me alone now that I’m a victor but it’s even worse than before. She can’t help meddling.”

The annoyance, Effie mused, was mostly faked. There was a lot of affection underneath and she wondered just how long and how well Mags had known Finnick before he was reaped.

Hayden excused himself to continue the long climb to their seats and, after giving her word she wouldn’t tell _if and only if_ the boy promised not to drink any, she hurried after him.

“More friends wanting to pump him with booze.” Hayden grumbled when she caught up with him. “Awesome. Good thing he doesn’t know anyone in Six because I’m not sure I could cope with him shooting up with morphling.”

“You’re overreacting.” Effie tried to appease him. “Finnick is just a boy. He’s quite taken with your brother, he just wanted to get his attention.”

“And he has it.” he spat, nodding at the two victors a few rows below them. “How long before he turns Odair into a drunk womanizer, you think?”

“That’s uncalled for.” she snapped before she could stop herself.

Hayden’s eyes bore a hole in the side of her head as they finally found their seats but she refused to look at him. She kept her gaze on Haymitch and Finnick. She didn’t know what they were talking about but she could see the smirk on her victor’s lips was genuine – or at least, she thought it was, it was hard to tell with him sometimes – Finnick nodded enthusiastically in answer and soon enough the both of them made their way up to them.

Haymitch took one glance at Hayden and flopped next to Effie, wisely keeping her between them – as a buffer or as a shield, that was anyone’s guess – while Finnick sat on his other side, commenting everything that was happening from the over-the-top look of some citizens in the crowd to his experience on the chariot the year before. Soon enough, cameras were everywhere and the huge screens hanging here and there were showing random citizens in the crowd, some famous singers and actors in the VIPs section and, of course, various victors.

She waited until the Opening Ceremony truly started to whisper in Haymitch’s ear. “I thought we agreed to appear as a _team_.”

And that hadn’t included being seen with various other Districts team members. They needed to clear up their image not confuse people…

“How about a team who’s friend with the Capitol’s darling?” he whispered back.

And just right then as if to prove him right, one of the cameras finally spotted Finnick and District One’s chariot arrived in the Circle completely unnoticed because everyone was pointing at the giant screen on which Finnick waved shyly at first and then with more confidence. Haymitch flung an arm around his shoulder and started waving too. Soon enough, the two of them were making faces and laughing at their reflection on the screen.

The crowd loved it.

By the time District Two’s chariot rolled around, they were chanting Finnick’s and Haymitch’s names. It soon appeared clear nobody cared for the tributes parade, to the point the filming crew finally decided to leave Finnick on a live feed on one of the screens.

The only thunderous applause went to Four’s tributes, all the others were largely ignored.

Twelve’s tributes looked just as ridiculous as they had the year before : dressed as miners and coated with coal, they held no appeal. Yet the audience cheered all the same, calling for Haymitch who obliged by standing up and giving them the charmer act. Now that she knew him better, she could see just how fake it was, just how sick it made him to lie like that.

Still… If it gave them a chance to win, she supposed it was worth it.

The price to pay for those few minutes of attention was heavy though.

When she tested the water, later on, it was very clear to her that nobody even remembered her tributes’ names or cared about them at all. Their five minutes of fame would probably be the only taste of glory they would get. It made everything else very hard to bear.

Hayden barely spoke two words to Effie or Haymitch for the whole evening, he ushered the tributes to the penthouse living-room as soon as they had gotten rid of the coal and gave them a pep talk about training Effie wasn’t privy to.

As for Haymitch… An Avox gave her a grey envelope right after the Opening Ceremony and she carried it in her pocket only to delay the moment where she would have to give it to him as long as she could.

Funny how such a small thing could feel so heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? Let me know what you think!


	19. Chapter 19

“I don’t have much time.” Haymitch warned his friend, dropping on the free stool and signaling the bartender he wanted a drink. The man behind the bar had been around the mentors’ lounge often enough to know what to serve him without having to ask and, in a matter of seconds, there was a glass of whiskey topped with ice in front of him. The man didn’t bother taking the bottle away, he left it between the two men.

Chaff studied Haymitch quickly and then threw back his head to down his own drink with a snort. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you feed the monster. What happened to keeping a low profile?”

Haymitch heaved out a sigh and glanced in the mirror, checking nobody was paying them any attention. Aside for Gloss and Cashmere who, from the ripe age of eighteen and nineteen, were glowering at him, probably insulted by what had happened a few days earlier at the Opening Ceremony, nobody cared. Victors were gathered in small groups, talking, laughing and catching up.

“We’re trying a new approach this year.” he explained.

He had his doubts about Trinket’s idea, not because he didn’t think her idea was the right one because it definitely was, but because he knew it wouldn’t change anything in the long run and he would be more likely the one to pay the price. Still, once Hayden had admitted what he probably already knew, meaning that Haymitch was not only more popular but also just more talented at playing the cameras’ game than he was, he had seemed to accept Trinket’s suggestions and apply them. Mostly, he kept to the mentoring and to the sponsors chasing with their escort while Haymitch waved and smiled on cameras and very much oversold the inexistent qualities of tributes who, he knew, would never make it past the Cornucopia.

“Is this approach named Trinket?” Chaff snorted. “Last year, she threw you at sponsors, now she’s making sure nobody can forget you exist… I see a pattern here.”

His insinuations didn’t sit well with Haymitch for some reason.

“It’s not like that.” he grumbled. He couldn’t completely deny Eleven’s mentor’s point, though. Her insistence that he assisted to the sponsors luncheon the year before had put him trouble not only with Celesta Vane but had also spread the misconception he would, like some other victors openly but quietly advertized for their Districts, be open to some other arrangements in exchange for a sponsoring offer. And his own stunt with Finnick at the Opening Ceremony this year had rekindled the flame of old women who fancied themselves fifteen years younger when they were seen around town with the Second Quarter Quell victor on their arm.

“No?” Chaff sounded dubious. “You sure she’s not a wolf in sheep’s clothings? ‘Wouldn’t be the first time they tried to trick someone like that.”

His retort was sharp. “I don’t need to be tricked. They have me already.”

“Maybe they’re wondering ‘cause you and your brother are at each other’s throat every two days.” his friend shrugged. “’Can’t say she’s making it any better, right? She’s playing it divide and conquer style.”

“No, she’s not.” Haymitch hissed. “She’s decent. They’re friends. We’re friends.”

Chaff took the time to pour himself another drink and to study the amber liquid in the glass before he spoke again.

“You sure?” Eleven’s mentor asked. “A hundred percent sure? Or are you saying this because you’re smitten?”

Haymitch almost choked on his whiskey. “I’m not _smitten_!”

“Well… I heard some things, you know…” Chaff’s tone was teasing and Haymitch had to resist the urge to slap his own face in his dismay.

“I’m going to kill that woman.” he growled. “Where’s Mags?”

He looked around but if Four’s mentor was in the large room, she was hiding very well. It wasn’t a surprise, she had always been very good at it.

“Ah, it was Seeder actually.” his friend laughed but his amusement was short lived. “I’m serious though, buddy. Your Trinket, she’s hot and she obviously got a temper. You think they don’t know how you like your ladies?”

“She’s _legit_.” he insisted. “Last year she was so…” The right word eluded him and he waved his own lack of eloquence away. “ _Naïve_.”

“Hell in high heels and pure.” Chaff summarized, not without sarcasm. “Not your type at all.”

“I don’t like _pure_.” he protested at once. He would taint anything pure and he wouldn’t call Effie Trinket innocent in any case.

Eleven’s victor shot him a look and shook his head but didn’t argue. He simply shrugged. “You’re thirty-two. In two or three years, you will be too old for the vultures. Except if you suddenly took a liking to it, stick to the plan and keep a low profile. She might be hot but she’s not worth it.”

He mulled that over, twirling the whiskey in his glass thoughtfully. “What if it can help the kids?”

“Do you see one of them as a potential victor?” Chaff asked.

Haymitch shouldn’t have answered that question. It broached the limits of what you confided to another team about your own tributes.

“They’re not survivors.” he offered finally.

“There you have it then.” his friend shrugged. “You can sleep with everyone in the Capitol, it won’t help them.” Chaff shot him another look. “I would say fuck her and get her out of your system but I’m not sure one time would be enough and that’s not the kind of message you want to give your escort.”

“How’s _your_ escort?” he switched topic, curious to know how Chaff was handling Viola Summercket – or _Vile-a_ as he and Hayden had nicknamed her early on.

“Hell and a lot less fun than yours. Why, you want her back?” Eleven’s mentor offered hopefully. “We can trade.”

“Or not.” Haymitch snorted.

Something – that turned out to be _someone_ – hurled at the empty stool next to him and flopped down on it. Tousled golden hair, shining green eyes and an annoyed pout.

“What’s wrong now, boy?” Haymitch snorted. “Mags grounded you again?” Finnick didn’t look amused. “You know Chaff?”

Finnick didn’t so they shook hands – or since it amused Chaff to spook off strangers, hand and _lump_.

“My tribute is a pain.” the boy spilled after a few minutes of coaxing and teasing. “She thinks she knows everything because she’s two years older than me so she won’t listen to me. She thinks she knows…”

The boy abruptly fell silent as something darker than his bright persona flashed in his eyes. Haymitch was painfully familiar with that shadow : the ghosts.

“How are the nightmares?” he asked, low enough that his voice wouldn’t carry much further than Chaff.

Finnick’s eyes darted to Eleven’s victor but when he glimpsed the understanding and calm acceptance on the older man’s face, he relaxed. “Every night.”

Haymitch wished he could promise they would fade. Clearly, Chaff was thinking the same thing because he banged the bar with his fist, making everyone standing around jump at the sudden low noise.

“What you need is a drink, boy.” Chaff declared. “What’s your poison?”

°O°O°O°

“Two.” Hayden repeated for what Effie believed to be the fiftieth time. “ _District Two_ wants an alliance with _you_.”

Heather’s hasty and messy dark ponytail bobbed up and down as she nodded silently.

“What did you do?” he asked, completely mistrustful. “You can do something you didn’t tell me about? You have some hidden talent somewhere?”

Effie clicked her tongue gently to let him know he wasn’t being very nice. It only earned her a pair of equally irritated glances so she settled for standing right where she was with her arms folded. This year, she was trying to find the right balance between caring for the children and getting attached. To be honest and as horrible as it sounded, it wasn’t very difficult because both of their tributes simply didn’t acknowledge her most of the time. They didn’t want _anything_ to do with a Capitol or so they said. They also didn’t want anything to do with each other.

The separate mentoring took twice as much time and Effie could see how it was made easier when two victors were involved. Besides, even Hayden’s patience was put through a rough time with those two. Heather seemed to love to make everything more difficult than it ought to be and Gaius was simply ready to hit anything.

Training had been going on for four days and she had already been warned _twice_ that he had tried to start various brawls with other tributes.

Of course, Effie had figured out that the defiant and brash attitudes were most likely hiding a deep terror of what laid ahead but… meanwhile, it didn’t help the escort and the mentor’s desperate run for sponsors.

“I was at the edible plants thing.” Heather said. “Siley came to me and asked if I wanted to hang around with them so I said yes and after that he asks if I wanted to be part of the Career pack.”

Siley was District Two’s male tribute. At eighteen, he already looked like a colossus to Effie who, even in heels, didn’t reach his shoulder.

“It’s a trap.” Hayden decided. “I don’t know why they would do this but… You should stay as far away from them as you can.”

Heather didn’t like it. “It’s the _Career pack_.”

“Precisely.” Effie cut in. “Why would they want you?”

Not the best way to word it, she supposed, when Heather’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“I’m saying yes.” the girl spat. “You’re both so _rubbish_.”

The door to her room slammed a few seconds later and Effie was left to stare at Hayden in silence.

“It’s a trap.” they both repeated as one.

Gaius, when interrogated, had no explanations to offer about the strange behavior of the Careers. His story concurred with Heather, she had been at a ‘stupid’ stand – and even though Hayden tried to explain to him _again_ proper knowledge of nature could save his life, the boy didn’t want to listen – when the tributes from Two had approached her and then she had acted as if they had been friends since kindergarten. The boy was adamant _he_ didn’t need allies.

No need to say, dinner was a tense affair and Effie was almost relieved Haymitch wasn’t there to add fuel to an already volatile mix.

Her relief, however, was short lived because Haymitch stumbled in the penthouse a little before midnight, drunk as a skunk, supported by an angry looking Peacekeeper.

“I found him in the lobby.” the man explained.

Effie apologized and thanked him profusely while Hayden grabbed his brother and dragged him in the direction of his room. She saw the man out and hurried after the victors, shushing them when they started arguing. Before long, Haymitch started struggling against Hayden but he was much too drunk and Hayden was too strong for him. She bit her bottom lip when the junior victor dropped his brother on his bed with obvious irritation.

“Was it a good party?” he spat.

Haymitch sneered at him, trying to sit up but unable to because of the unforgiving hand Hayden was pressing on his shoulder to keep him pinned to the bed.

“What do _you_ know about parties?” the senior victor hissed. “You wouldn’t know fun if it was spelled on your ass.”

Hayden opened his mouth and Effie decided it was probably safer to interrupt before it escalated into a yelling match.

“First, this makes no sense, Haymitch.” she chided him. “And secondly, it’s vulgar.”

Talking was a mistake because his ire switched target.

“Oh, and _you_ don’t like vulgar, yeah?” he taunted. “Prim and proper Miss Trinket… You know what they say about stuck-up bitches like you? They say they’re the more…”

“You finish this sentence, I’m going to punch you.” Hayden growled. “ _Apologize_.”

“Fuck you.” Haymitch replied.

“Enough.” she snapped.

For a second, both brothers looked at her with identical defiant expressions but then Hayden shook his head and Haymitch’s angry look turned into something else. Hayden clearly recognized it because he scrambled away very fast but Effie was too slow and, as a consequence, her shoes – brand new and very pretty – were splashed with his sick. He looked up at her, looking pitiful and almost afraid she would behead him.

“Sorry.” he whimpered.

For a second, everyone stood still. Hayden, who had learned since the very first day of the previous year just _how much_ she cared about clothes and fashion items, was frozen, his eyes darting between his brother and his escort.

Truth be told, she _was_ tempted to kill him.

Yet, he looked so miserable and so green in the face, she didn’t see the point in doing that just now because he would probably have forgotten by tomorrow. So, in spite of her disgust and her initial instinctive urge to gag, she turned to Hayden.

“Could you find an Avox to mop the mess?” she asked.

Hayden was only too happy to flee the room.

Effie sighed and wandered into the bathroom, aware that Haymitch’s eyes were tracking her every move. His rooms, predictably, were already a mess but she managed to locate a clean towel. He struggled a bit when she dabbed at his mouth with it and then surrendered : his hands were shaking and he looked drained.

“You don’t have to clean me up.” he mumbled.

“I highly dispute that statement.” she snorted, doing her best to breathe through her mouth. “Your stubble is all…” She waved at it instead of describing just how disgusting his face now was and scrubbed harder despite his annoyed groans. “What happened to not drinking in public?” She didn’t bother to hide her irritation at his failure to respect their agreement.

He remained silent for a few seconds and then grabbed her wrist to push the towel away. He curled up on the bed. “Tonight was crap.”

She had seen him pocket a grey envelope earlier so she supposed it was explanation enough. She could have sworn her heart was ready to burst with indignation, fury and something that she vaguely identified as protectiveness. Whoever had upset him, _abused_ him through those special appointments, she wanted to _hurt_ them. The feeling both surprised and scared her because she wasn’t a violent person.

She knew he wouldn’t appreciate her pity though so she was careful to keep her voice even when she spoke next, softening her words by running her fingers through his tangled hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” he spat, closing his eyes. “Do that again.”

She supposed he meant the hair petting so she slipped her fingers through his hair again and again, taking care of the knots while she was at it – she would make sure a bottle of conditioner would appear in his shower at the earliest opportunity. Soon, his eyes were closed and she was sure he was falling asleep. When Hayden came back with an Avox in tow, she pressed a finger to her lips.

The junior victor looked at her strangely but obeyed her request for silence. While the Avox mopped the floor, replacing the stench of his sick by the flowery smell of a cleaning product, Hayden set to work : he removed his brother’s shoes, socks, pants and shirt, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Haymitch grumbled in his sleep but he was out cold and Effie’s gentle petting was enough to keep him that way. She averted her eyes and kept them firmly away once he was in his underwear, not wanting to abuse the frail trust he had gifted her with.

“All done.” Hayden whispered, once he had managed to slip sweatpants up to his brother’s hips – a feast made complicated by Haymitch’s insistent curling up. “Help me get him under the covers.”

That proved to be even more difficult but they succeeded after long minutes of struggling and lifting his dead weight. As soon as they were in the corridor, Effie got rid of her shoes and instructed the Avox to throw them away.

“Well, on that note, I think I will go to bed.” she told Hayden cheerfully.

He wished her a good night but she was a little too aware he was watching her with calculating eyes. Clearly, escorts didn’t make an habit of running their fingers through his brother’s hair after he had thrown up on their shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Your thoughts? Like it? Hated it? Please drop me a line!


	20. Chapter 20

Haymitch startled awake, a long and low whine escaped his throat and he buried his head under the covers to protect himself against the harsh and unforgiving sunlight.

“Get up. It’s late.”

“Go away.” he mumbled.

The covers he was hiding under were brutally ripped from his body. He groaned when the light assaulted his eyes. It felt as if his head was about to split open. His memories from the night before, after he had left the Training Center to go to his appointment, was fragmented and he decided it was for the best. The hangover, on the other hand, _wasn’t_ for the best.

“Come on, Haymitch, don’t force me to drag you to the shower.” Hayden warned.

“What do you want?” he grumbled, rubbing his hands against his face in hope it would help chase the drilling noise in his head.

“We need to talk.” his brother deflected.

Haymitch glanced at him, finally noticing the glass of water and the bottle of aspirin Hayden was holding. He took both, popping two pills in his mouth gratefully. That was royal treatment as far as his brother was concerned, it must have been serious.

“Tell me you didn’t get a girl pregnant.” he joked – or at least he _hoped_ it was a joke.

“Go take a shower. I will explain over breakfast.” Hayden requested.

With a painful sigh, Haymitch hauled his body out of bed and into the bathroom, stepping over discarded clothes he had never bothered to put in the hamper. He usually forbade Avoxes from coming and going into his room, not ready to sacrifice his privacy to tidiness, yet it smelled suspiciously like flowers.

“Something happened last night?” he shouted only to wince immediately at his own loud voice. He got rid of his sweatpants and boxer and kicked them in a corner.

Hayden’s snort was audible even in the next room. “Depends. Does throwing up on Effie’s shoes count?”

“Oh, _shit_.” he spat. That explained the bad taste in his mouth though, he supposed. Well… He couldn’t do a thing about it now, she would kill him later. Probably.

By the time he had showered, brushed his teeth and dressed up with clean clothes, his headache had decreased a bit, thanks to the pills. He still made a face when he entered the dining room to find a plate full of things Hayden apparently expected him to eat – his stomach churned unpleasantly at the thought of food. Small mercies, Trinket and the kids were nowhere to be seen. They were probably all gone already.

“Alright.” he snorted, dropping on a chair. “Again… Did you get a girl pregnant?” Hayden slammed a glass of orange juice full to the brim in front of him. Haymitch winced. “If you’re in for a lecture, baby brother, tell me now so I can tune you out.”

“Since when do lectures work with you?” His brother rolled his eyes. “Two offered Heather an alliance.”

Haymitch did a double take at that. “Alright, I’m all ears.”

He drank the juice and nibbled a few pieces of fruits while Hayden explained what had happened the day before. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to shrug. “It’s a trap.” What else could it be?

“Yeah, but _why_?” Hayden sighed, leaning back on his chair. “What interest can they have in hurting her?”

“Aside for winning?” he replied, munching around a piece of apple. “They asked another District?”

His brother shook his head. “As far as I know, it’s classic Career pack. One and Two with the boy from Three. They asked the girl from Five but that’s not as fishy, Gaius says she’s good with knives.”

“Then it has nothing to do with your girl.” Haymitch concluded. “It’s Twelve they want to show up.”

“There’s a sponsors luncheon later.” Hayden said. “I will try to figure it out.”

“Stay clear of Two’s mentors.” he countered at once. “They’re not nice.”

And it was a lovely euphemism.

Hayden opened his mouth, probably to argue, but the elevator chime interrupted him. Or, rather, the very high-pitched, very _furious_ voice of their escort interrupted him. “ _Haymitch Abernathy!_ ”

“Oh, now you’re in trouble…” Hayden snickered like he used to do when they were younger and their mother had caught her oldest son during one of his various misbehaving.

Trinket heels stomped on the floorboard so hard the absurd image of an elephant wearing a wig and garish clothes flashed into his mind. Unfortunately, when she appeared on the dining room’s threshold with a deep scowl on her face and murder written plainly in her blue eyes, he remembered that elephants could be deadly.

“I will buy you new shoes.” he said at once, trying to sound dismissive. If the laughter Hayden was trying to hide behind his hand was any indication, he failed.

Confusion flickered on her face right before her anger became even more pronounced.

“Never mind the shoes.” she hissed. “Could you explain to me _why_ I had just been submitted to the most humiliating lecture of my life?”

Her voice had risen to a ridiculous squeak in the end and his mouth twitched. She didn’t miss it. She narrowed her eyes.

Despite all instinct of self-preservation, he smirked. “Because your wig doesn’t match your shoes?”

She took a threatening step closer and Haymitch dragged his chair _that_ little bit further back. Not that he was afraid. Not at all. But she looked thunderous.

Hayden was still trying – and failing – to hide his hilarity.

“You help when you feel like it.” Haymitch muttered in his direction. “No pressure, baby bro.”

“Did you or did you not get Finnick drunk yesterday?” Trinket accused, pointing a finger at his chest.

Hayden stopped laughing at once.

“That would be Chaff, actually.” Haymitch protested. “Finnick was fine when I left.”

“Fine?” she repeated, so high and loud his head suddenly remembered it had been aching not that long ago.

“Come back to human frequency.” he mumbled, rubbing his brow. He was certain all the dogs surrounding the Training Center had heard her.

“I suggest you forget the sass, Haymitch.” She gritted her teeth. “I’m this close, _this close_ to murdering you.”

She was waving two of her fingers around to illustrate just how little patience she had left.

“Don’t do that in front of a man, sweetheart. It will give him a complex.” he snorted. “Besides…”

“Adelais had to cancel an interview this morning, she is _furious_.” she went on without even listening to his brawly jokes. Her loss, he figured, he was a very funny man. “She lectured Viola and me _at length_ about controlling our victors. _In public_. Do you know what I like even less than a public dressing down? Being seen with Viola Summercket! And now, because of _you_ , not only did I have to side with my worst nightmare, we had a fight with Adelais too. And worst of all is, _she_ _was_ _right_. Finnick is barely fifteen, Haymitch, he is _not_ a suitable drink buddy. If I _ever_ catch you sneaking that boy anything stronger than a lemonade, you won’t like the outcome. And you can warn Chaff that Viola is eager to rip two or three anatomical things I figure he would prefer to keep if he ever does something that warrants such an humiliation to us again. And I’m not above doing the same!”

Her threat was punctuated by a heavy silence. Haymitch waited two seconds to make sure the rant was over.

“Feel better?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

He didn’t think her scowl could deepen even more but her eyes narrowed into slits. He was strongly reminded of a bull in front of whom you waved a red cloth. That would have been fine if she hadn’t been the bull and he hadn’t been the red cloth.

“Alright!” he snapped before she could start spitting ten words a second again. “No more drinking with Finnick or I get castrated. I get it, Princess, you can relax.”

Clearly, it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Do you even care _at all_ that I was humiliated in front of everyone because of you?” she asked.

“Not really, no.” he retorted before he could think better of it.

Her anger deflated like a balloon. She just looked hurt now and he felt sorry for it, he truly did, which annoyed him even more because he didn’t want to care.

“Sometimes…” she said in a low voice. “… you make it very difficult to be your friend.”

She turned on her heels and left before he could answer that.

Hayden, who had remained silent and still for most of the last part of the conversation, shifted uneasily.

“That girl could give Mama a run for her money.” Haymitch muttered. “I feel guilty now.”

“She helped clean you up last night.” Hayden offered.

“Yeah, thanks, that’s helping with the guilt.” he snorted bitterly. And then he let out a groan when something else occurred to him. If Four’s escort had cornered Trinket… He should avoid Mags as much as possible.

“Is there something going on I should know about?” Hayden asked, very, _very_ casually. Too casually.

“What?” he frowned and then shrugged. “I don’t know what Two is planning, I told you.”

Hayden gave him a weird look and, somehow, Haymitch figured it wasn’t at all what he meant.

°O°O°O°

Effie smiled, laughed and otherwise tried to look charming but her heart wasn’t in it and the sponsors luncheon was quickly becoming more than she could bear. Nobody cared about the Games this year, it seemed. All everybody could talk about was the previous season, Finnick and just how magnificent it had all been. She was certain no sponsor knew more than one tribute’s name and even then it seemed to be random. There was no favorite and there was no real thirst for one.

Hayden had stopped talking to people a few minutes earlier to circle discreetly around the small group Enobaria was busy chatting up. Effie watched from afar as the glances Two’s victor gave him became more and more pronounced and, above all, more and more annoyed.

“I was looking for you.”

She almost jumped out of her skin. She had been so busy staring at Hayden’s strange antics, she hadn’t seen Haymitch’s own circling tactic. The last time she had seen him, he had been talking with Eleven’s mentor at the other end of the room. She didn’t even know why he had come to the luncheon, he usually avoided them.

“Well, you’ve found me.” she said in a clipped voice.

“Are you going to be a bitch forever?” he grumbled. “I told you, when I left, Finnick was alright. I told Chaff not to get him wasted again until he’s of age. That’s good enough for you or what?”

“If this is your way of apologizing, it is lacking.” she countered.

“I don’t do apologies.” he spat.

“That is painfully obvious.” she huffed and walked away, snatching a flute from a waiter’s tray on her way.

She walked straight to Hayden.

“Your brother is insufferable.” she told him.

“Yeah, I know.” he chuckled. “I lived with him my whole life, remember?” Then he shrugged. “He was sorry this morning, though. For real, I think.”

“I highly doubt that.” she scoffed. “Now, tell me, why are you stalking that woman? Do you like her?”

Enobaria wasn’t really pretty but she _was_ strong, dangerous looking and lean which, Effie knew, made her sexy in men’s eyes. The rumor mill had it that the victor was planning to have plastic surgery so her teeth would look like fangs. More than one of her male friends found the idea very appealing, Effie didn’t see what was so enticing in risking to lose your tongue every time you kissed her - never mind _other parts_.

It turned out Hayden was trying to figure out what was going on with Two and why they suddenly wanted an alliance. Enobaria was starting to glare at them, obviously irritated at being stared at and Effie’s solution to that was simple.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Hayden hissed, reaching for her arm.

She was already gone.

She made her way to the group of sponsors Two’s victor was talking to with a sweet smile on her lips, making sure to show her white fangs-free teeth. They were mostly men and, as usual with men, were easily distracted.

“We haven’t been introduced. Effie Trinket, I’m District Twelve’s escort. We were wondering if we could have a word?” she asked Enobaria.

The victor looked up and down at her with a sneer before glancing at Hayden. She excused herself to her sponsors and left in a creaking of leather – leather wasn’t in fashion but Effie had to admit the outfit looked good on her. The woman grabbed Hayden’s arm and dragged him out of the room so fast, Effie had troubles following on her heels. It was made all the more difficult by the fact that the victor didn’t stop outside of the room but went on until they were a few corridors away. Effie caught up in time to see Two’s victor push Hayden more than she let go of his arm.

“What do _you_ want?” Enobaria spat.

The corridor they were in was deserted and Effie was a little too conscious of just how ferocious and cruel Enobaria had acted during her Games.

“Where’s your brother? I only talk to _victors_.” Two’s mentor continued with a loathing look.

Hayden stood up straighter and stepped forward, his hands closing in fists. “I’m a victor and you’re going to talk to me.”

“There is _no_ _need_ for violence.” Effie clicked her tongue. “We simply…”

“Tell your goose to shut up.” Enobaria said directly to Hayden, as if Effie didn’t even exist.

“Don’t call her….” Hayden took another step forward and Effie could tell, even before it happened, that it was a mistake because it brought him _right_ into the woman’s space.

The escort gasped loudly when Enobaria grabbed his arm, twisted it and used that grip to shove him against the wall. One of her hands was still holding his arm in a lock behind his back, the other one was pushing his head against the flat surface. The move had taken less than two seconds and had been so swift, it seemed to have taken her no effort at all.

“Sorry, did I insult your girlfriend?” Enobaria mocked. “I thought she was with your brother. You share maybe?”

Outraged, Effie opened and closed her mouth.

“Let him go!” she squeaked at last. “Unhand him _at once_! This is against the rules! I will report you! I will…”

“Honey, I could snap your neck right now and all they would do is tell me not to do it again.” Enobaria drawled out, clearly bored. “There are thousands of you out there but only one of me. Now… What’s _your_ name again… Haylen?”

“Hayden.” he growled, struggling against her grip to no avail.

“Ah, yes, _Hayden_. The coward who hid in a cave the whole time. You know your year is on the Worst Games List, yeah?” she taunted.

“Let him go!” Effie insisted again, walking closer in spite of all cautious course of action. Not once did she take Enobaria’s allegations seriously. No one from a District would raise a hand on a Capitol citizen. _No one_. If she had had her purse, she probably would have used it as a weapon, since she was lacking a suitable accessory, she settled for grabbing Enobaria’s arm.

She never saw the backslap coming.

Or was it a punch?

It was certainly hard to tell because nobody had _ever_ hit her in her whole life and she fell to the ground like a stone, stunned.

Hayden used Enobaria’s distraction – or tried to. Effie wasn’t sure what happened precisely, her cheek was throbbing and she must have bitten herself in her fall because she could taste blood, but she thought her victor managed to get in a punch because she heard Enobaria’s sudden expiration.

“Oh, _now_ I’m pissed.” Two’s victor hissed.

If the blow she gave Hayden was the same Effie had sustained, then, the escort decided it was better categorized as a punch. She felt strangely detached from what was happening, as if in a daze. She remained sitting on the floor and watched as Enobaria slammed her friend against the wall once again, a hand around his throat.

“And they call _that_ a victor.” Enobaria taunted.

Hayden spat right in her face, a reddish drool trickled down her cheek.

Effie wanted to tell him that was the peak of impropriety but her lips refused to form the words.

“You get away from my brother _right now_.”

Effie had never seen Haymitch looking this pissed. She didn’t know where he had come from, everything was starting to look fuzzy, but the expression on his face was downright dangerous. She hoped he didn’t have a knife. She had already gotten in trouble over him getting a victor wasted, she didn’t want to have to explain exactly how he had accidentally killed another one.

“Or what?” Enobaria snarled. “You think _you_ can give _me_ orders?”

“What’s your _fucking_ problem?” Haymitch growled. “What’s your deal with Twelve this year?”

“My deal with Twelve…” she repeated, sounding both amused and irritated. Her fingers were still wrapped around Hayden’s throat and Effie was beginning to worry she would squeeze too hard. Enobaria didn’t look in any way disturbed by Hayden clawing at her wrist, she was staring at Haymitch with unrestrained hatred. “You enjoyed the Opening Ceremony, Abernathy? You enjoyed showing the Careers up with your stupid little friend? You think it’s right _your_ name is on every lips while Gloss, Cashmere and I take a backseat? You enjoyed it? I sure hope you did because it’s _never_ happening again. You played a good game, Haymitch, but you’re old now. Just wait until the Games start, Two will show you how it’s done. No more pathetic excuses for victors from your pathetic little District.”

“Let my brother go.” Haymitch demanded again, more calmly.

The cool attitude was fake, though, Effie could tell. She heard the snarl underneath. Haymitch would kill and get killed for Hayden, she had no doubt about that.

For a second, she thought it would all turn out even worse and Enobaria would actually _hurt_ Hayden but then the woman laughed and finally dropped her hands. Hayden collapsed to the ground and Two’s victor shook her head at him.

“Pathetic.” she commented before turning on her heels and walking away as if nothing at all had happened.

Haymitch waited until she was gone before rushing to his brother. He felt around for a wound, forced his head back to check his throat, very much fussed over him…

“What were you thinking?” he started ranting at once. “Confronting Enobaria? Seriously? She’s _fucking_ crazy. You should have told me or…”

“I don’t need you!” Hayden shouted suddenly, pushing his brother’s hands away. “I could have handled it by myself!”

“Yeah?” he yelled back, clearly irritated. “How? By going back to Twelve in a coffin?”

“Like she would have killed me.” Hayden snorted.

“She is one of the Capitol’s most favorite.” he hissed. “ _You_ are _nothing_ compared to her. She’s a shark, you’re a goldfish. There’s very few she can’t get away with, killing someone, you in particular, is certainly not the worst.”

That was cruel, Effie judged.

And Hayden clearly thought so too because he pushed his brother away again and scrambled up before stalking away in the opposite direction Enobaria had taken.

That was when Haymitch turned to her. She was the last remaining target to his anger – that, she mused, most largely came from fear – so she wasn’t surprised when he glared at her.

“You’re supposed to help with sponsors not encourage him to do stupid things, Trinket. I know you’re dumb but try to use that thing between your ears next time. It’s called a brain, it could surprise you.” he lashed out. “Something like that happens again, I will have your ass fired.”

It wasn’t the words as much as the towering over her, she thought, and the shock of course. She realized she was most likely in shock. After all, nothing like that had ever happened to her, one ought to be allowed a moment of weakness.

Her lips started wobbling first, then tears pooled in her eyes and, at any other time, she would probably have been amused by the gradual look of horror that appeared on Haymitch’s face.

“Don’t you dare start wailing.” he warned.

The first sob rocked her whole frame and then there was nothing she could do to stop the onslaught of tears. She was dimly aware Haymitch crouched in front of her, at a loss for what to do.

“Alright, alright…” he grumbled, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “No one’s hurt so we won’t talk about it again. Stop crying. Why are you even sitting on the floor? So what, you decided to watch the show like a good little Capitol?”

He was trying to irk her, she thought, but it didn’t work out.

“She hit me.” she heaved between two sobs. “She _hit_ me.”

His whole demeanor changed. She didn’t know what he had been thinking… That she had just gotten tired of her heels and had randomly decided to sit down? Still, once the words were out of her mouth, he stiffened.

“She _hit_ me.” she said again, just so the words would sink in. “Nobody ever hit me before. _Nobody_. I…” She tried to get her emotions under control, to collect herself but… The upsetting cold reality Enobaria had smacked right in her face was too much to take in. “She said she could kill me and nobody would care.”

Haymitch sighed but didn’t dispute the truth of that statement. “Where are you hurt?”

She turned her head to let him have a better look, sparing a thought for the no doubt smudged make-up and the ugly sight she must have been. Still, she had dabbed vomit from his mouth just the previous night so she thought there should have been a matter of pot and kettle here and Haymitch shouldn’t judge.

She was expecting a nasty comment about her looks, she was surprised when she felt his fingers running over her cheekbone. His touch was gentle, he cupped her face and probed her cheek with his thumb. When she hissed in pain, he stopped pressing and simply stroke it a few times. Unable to explain herself why, she leaned in his hand. The caress felt comforting and reassuring somehow. It was probably very unfair to Hayden but she just knew if Haymitch had been there instead, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

“Just a bruise.” he declared. “You were lucky she didn’t knock a tooth out.”

She gasped in horror at the prospect which made him chuckle a bit, but she could tell he was far from amused. His hand dropped from her face and she instantly missed the contact. She let him haul her up back to her feet.

“I’m not safe, am I?” she whispered. “All my life I thought I was completely safe but… It’s an illusion, isn’t it? Like the glory of the Games, like…”

“Sweetheart.” he interrupted her. The rebuke was gentle but the reminder was firm : they were inside and she shouldn’t be caught saying that sort of things if she didn’t want to find out just how _unsafe_ she was.

She longed for days long past when she hadn’t been aware of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	21. Chapter 21

Effie checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. The make-up was heavier than usual but it adequately hid the bruise that was already starting to form. The fear was mostly gone now, leaving behind an unprecedented anger, she was literally bursting with energy. She patted her purple wig, then headed out of her room and straight to Hayden’s.

He had refused to open his door to Haymitch when his brother had accompanied her back to the penthouse after their unpleasant run in with Two’s victor. Haymitch had left though and now that she was alone, Effie was confident Hayden would open for her. Or, at the very least, she _hoped_ he would.

She knocked and tried the handle without waiting for an answer but the door was locked.

“Hayden, it’s me. Open up.” she requested in her best bossy tone.

She had to call out twice more and knock three times before she heard the familiar sound of a lock being turned. He didn’t open the door or tell her to come in but she chose to take it as an invitation all the same and walked in.

Hayden’s room was in total contrast with his brother’s. She had already noticed when she had stayed at their house that he had a natural inclination for tidiness : everything in his room at home was in its proper place and she had been very careful not to disturb it. His room in the penthouse was exactly the same : no clothes on the floor, no general messes of damp towels he couldn’t be bothered to hang or odd fumes escaping from half empty bottles of liquor. Hayden’s room was just as nice and clean as hers.

Hayden was sitting at the foot of his neatly made bed, legs a little apart, clasped hands in between his knees and bowed head. He looked utterly defeated

“Are you alright?” she asked with a frown.

She could see the dark shape of bruises forming on his tanned neck. She approached him like one would approach a scared animal – or at least, she imaged that was how you approached a scared animal, she had never done that in her life before – and when he didn’t move or react at all, she gently grabbed his chin in her hand and tilt his head up. The bruising on his throat was extensive and she would have a hard time hiding it even with make-up, she made a mental note to order turtle neck in emergency. His face was another matter entirely, Enobaria’s fist hadn’t caught him on the cheek like it did for her but closer to his mouth, his bottom lip was split.

He remained silent while she bustled around him. She was grateful for the distraction, truth be told, for a way to channel all that adrenaline that was still buzzing in her veins. She found ice – enough ice for his neck _and_ his lip – and didn’t let herself be moved by his soft pained hiss when she pressed the towel she had wrapped around it against the wounds. Her fingers were numb before long but she didn’t move.

“You should have done that before.” she chided him. “It won’t stop the bruising now.”

She wasn’t even sure it was bringing him any relief.

“What’s the point?” he mumbled.

“Well, not looking like a walking and talking punching-ball would be a strong motivation, I imagine.” she deadpanned.

“No one’s looking at me anyway.” he sneered. “I’m not Twelve’s victor.”

“Now, what is this nonsense?” She shook her head at him. “Nobody…”

“There’s only one victor in Twelve and that’s Haymitch.” he spat. “Everybody knows it. Everybody _is saying it.”_

Effie paused and took a deep breath. She would have loved to think his current mood was related to what Enobaria had said but she had the nagging suspicion it ran deeper. It wasn’t the first time Hayden had bristled when the subject was mentioned.

“You are every bit a victor as any of them.” she argued. “You didn’t wave an axe around and you didn’t kill anyone, yes, and so what? _You_ _won_. You survived your opponents. You _are_ a victor.”

“Oh, but I’m not.” he snorted. “It’s like a club, see? And they never miss an occasion to let me know I’m not in it. But Haymitch… Haymitch _loves_ this. Most of the victors from the outer Districts, they play it for the cameras but they’re not as big on winning, they’re not as _proud_. Haymitch… He’s no better than the Careers.”

She was silent for a few seconds. “That’s very unfair.”

“You think?” he chuckled. “Everything has to be about him. _Everything_. It was like that before too. He’s the one who took all those tesserae to feed us. He’s the one who risked a whipping to go poaching in the woods. He _always_ had to be the hero even then and I used to love it, I used to look up to him _so much_.”

She didn’t dare interrupt because his words were laced with years worth of bitterness and resentment so she pursed her lips and kept her rebukes to herself.

“When he won his Games, he changed.” he went on. “I thought it was about his girlfriend… She was caught poaching one time too many while he was still in the Capitol, they…” He shrugged. “They executed her. I thought it was about her because I know he loved her for real but when Mama and I tried to talk to him about her, you know what he said? He said it was sad but it was history. He said Mabel should have known better than to go without him and that it was her own fault.”

Effie closed her eyes and turned her head. She very much doubted Haymitch had meant those words. She very much doubted Hayden would have taken his honesty for granted if he had known the whole story.

“He didn’t care anymore. Not for Mabel and not for us. He bought us pretty things, everything I asked, we had more food than we needed, for the first time we were rich.” He laughed but there was no amusement in it, it was hollow, haunted. “But he wasn’t really my big brother anymore. Even when he was there with us, in his head he wasn’t. It only got worse after I was reaped. The booze, the girls, the Capitol… He never could swallow he wasn’t the hero anymore. I could take care of Mama too, now. I could take care of myself. But that… He can’t accept it. He _has_ to…”

“Hayden.” she cut him off, because she didn’t think she could hear any more. There was a lump in her throat and she had troubles swallowing it down. “Your brother loves you.” It was a whisper, barely audible. “Your brother loves you _so very much_.”

“Sure, he loves me.” Hayden shrugged. “As long as the spotlight’s on him.”

“Again. That’s unfair.” she countered softly.

Her fingers were prickling now and she used the excuse to walk in the bathroom and dispatch the ice that hadn’t yet melted into the shower. She didn’t hear him follow her but when she turned to hang the towels, he was there, leaning against the doorframe, watching her.

“I’m sorry.” he said at last. “You could have gotten hurt earlier.”

Her fingers instinctively reached for her cheek but she dropped them before they made contact for fear of smudging the make-up. “It’s alright.”

“It’s alright because Haymitch arrived.” There was a guarded expression on his face. “I see how you look at him, Effie. Don’t fall for his act. _Don’t fall_ , period. I don’t think he can’t love anyone anymore. I don’t even think he wants to. If you let him, he will take you, use you and then toss you away.”

She lowered her eyes. “There is no danger of that.”

“Yeah?” he sounded almost derisive but then he shook his head and sighed. “You know… I said I didn’t need him, earlier, that I could have handled Enobaria but… Truth is… I’m not sure. I never learnt how to. Every victor, they’re… _feral_ in a way. I’m not.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” she declared. If anything, Enobaria was a little _too_ feral.

“If I could go back to my arena, I would do things the proper way.” he said.

He sounded and looked so hurt, she couldn’t help herself. She walked to him and drew him into a tight embrace. His arms locked around her immediately and he held her close, close enough to be on the edge of hurting, he buried his face in her neck and she could tell at his ragged breathing that he was trying very hard to remain collected.

There was so much _pain_ between the two brothers… So many misunderstandings…

“Don’t you dare wish you were any different.” she whispered in his ear. “And please don’t think your brother would like you _to be_ any different. I know he loves you.”

He didn’t reply but he relaxed against her and, in that unspoken evidence of trust, she felt the dynamics of their relationship shifting. For all their promises and talk about the fact they were and would remain just friends, she had never felt it had truly sunk in. Yet there were moments of clarity sometimes between people and she just knew the bound she had formed with Hayden, even though she thought it to be more sincere and truer than mere friendship, would never be the romantic kind. If anything, her feelings for him were sisterly.

°O°O°O°

“Brutus!”

Since most of the victors were at the sponsors luncheon, the mentor lounge was mostly empty. At the call of his name, Brutus stopped talking with Cecelia and turned to Haymitch. The surprise quickly faded into a genuine smile. “What’s up, Haymitch?”

Despite being the size of a gorilla, probably as strong as one, and having kept a ruthless reputation from his time in the arena, Brutus was usually quite friendly and, above all, had a natural respect for his elders. Truth be told, Haymitch wasn’t much older than him but the man had won three years after him and the fact that Twelve’s victor had won against the double of tributes had been enough for Haymitch to find himself on Brutus’ good side. Until that day, that was.

The young victor from Eight must have seen just how angry Haymitch was because she dashed away as quickly as her legs could carry her.

“Get your girl under control.” he hissed at Two’s mentor.

Annoyance flashed on Brutus’ face for as second. “What has she gone and done, now?”

Brutus had mentored plenty of victors coming from Two but it was no secret that Enobaria was his favorite. It was also not a secret that he was pissed off at her most of the time.

“She has parents, a set of grandparents and a cousin she’s fond of.” Haymitch stated matter-of-factly. The information wasn’t difficult to come by. You didn’t spend ten years going to _special appointments_ without gathering tiny bits of information and contacts here and there. “It would be _a shame_ if anything were to happen to them.”

Brutus’ face immediately turned serious. “Don’t threaten my girl, Haymitch. You don’t want to play that game.”

“ _She_ started it when she wrapped her fingers around my brother’s throat.” he growled. “If she has a problem with _me_ , she comes to _me_. She messes with my brother, she won’t like the outcome.”

Two’s victor studied him for a few seconds and then shrugged. “I will tell her.”

“Good.” he spat. “And make sure she understands.”

They were not in the same kind of arena. Haymitch didn’t need an axe, a knife or even his teeth to destroy Enobaria’s life, all he needed was connections and money. He had a few of the first and plenty of the latter.

Brutus clearly wasn’t pleased with his threats but Haymitch knew the man enough to know that while he considered all was fair in the Games, outside there were limits. Going after someone’s family for instance was a Capitol’s tactic and not something another victor should consider. In that case, though, Enobaria had acted first.

He didn’t linger in the lounge but he didn’t feel like going back to the penthouse either. Facing Hayden right now was out of the question. He was too angry with his brother for acting so stupidly. Hayden should have known better by now.

The luncheon should have been over so he took the elevator to the eleventh floor, hoping for a distraction. He found his path blocked by Viola who sneered at him and asked him if he was too drunk to find the right floor. She could have been pretty if she hadn’t always been so aggressive. Her dark skin shone with that awful lotion she always rubbed on her body to make herself look glowing. It used to smell like strawberries, now it was bananas. The smell followed her everywhere she went and increased with her every move. Like all Capitols, she moved a lot when she talked, it made him nauseous.

“Haymitch.” Chaff’s voice boomed from the living-room. His friend took one look at him and ushered him back into the elevator. “You’re shaking. What happened?”

The actual story didn’t take that long to tell. Haymitch didn’t voice the gut gripping terror that had taken hold of him when he had spotted Enobaria strangling his brother but he would have bet Chaff had heard it all the same. They had been friends for years.

“So the best idea you got was to threaten the insane chick?” Chaff scoffed, a few moments later, as the waiter placed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey in front of them on the table. A good thing about the Capitol was that there were quiet bars and alcohol almost everywhere if you knew the right places.

“It’s the only thing she understands.” Haymitch mumbled defensively. It probably hadn’t been his best move but it was all he could think of at the time. “Brutus will make sure she stays in line.” Chaff looked doubtful and Haymitch couldn’t suppress his annoyed sigh. “What else was I supposed to do?”

There was a moment of silence mostly covered by the unbearable pop music blasting from the stereo speakers. It was probably lucky it was so early in the afternoon there was next to none other patron in the bar because Haymitch was not in the mood to act like the playboy they all thought him to be.

“Maybe you could have let your brother handle his own mess for once.” Chaff said at last, in a very measured tone. “She would have beaten the shit out of him but I don’t think she’d have been stupid enough to actually kill him. More troubles than she would care to get into for someone like Hayden. Besides, it could have taught him a thing or two.”

“No one touches my brother.” he growled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” His friend waved his lump to sweep his argument away. “You’ve been singing the same tune for years. How much longer do you think you can keep it up?”

“I’m keeping him safe.” Haymitch snapped. “What’s your problem?”

Chaff lifted both hand and lump in a defensive gesture. “Look, I just call it as I see it.”

“Meaning?” he prompted.

“Meaning…” Eleven’s mentor sighed, taking a sip of his whiskey. “At some point, you’ve got to let him fall off the nest or he will never learn to fly.” Haymitch opened his mouth but Chaff beat him to it. “How long are you going to lie to him, Haymitch? I’m going to be _very_ honest you managed to keep everything a secret much, _much_ longer than I thought you would. Eleven years is a good run, maybe it’s time to let him grow up. Tell him what’s going on.”

“No.” It was firm and definitive. “He won’t let me keep the arrangement. You don’t know my brother, he’s eager to play martyr.”

“Then let him.” Chaff shrugged. “Each time I see him he’s acting like an ungrateful little spoiled brat. Even Odair is more mature sometimes.”

Haymitch shook his head. “He resents me, that’s all. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t won…”

“Oh, don’t start with your girl again.” Chaff cut him off. “None of this is your fault. You know _who’s_ at fault. You know who the real enemy is. That’s not the point. Point is, he doesn’t understand the game at all because you’re keeping him out of it. He doesn’t know the rules and you expect him to follow them.”

Haymitch took a mouthful of whiskey but it didn’t burn the bad taste of helplessness left in his mouth. Chaff wasn’t wrong of course, keeping everything a secret was taking its toll not only on him but also on his brother. It was _his_ fault if the other victors kept Hayden away, it was his fault he didn’t have many – if any – friends…

“I know you’re trying to protect the kid, buddy, but you’re keeping him locked in a cage. It’s not better.” Chaff insisted, as if he was reading his mind.

He downed his glass of whiskey and poured himself another, sparing a thought for Trinket who would probably have a fit if he exposed his drunk behavior to the public eye again.

“I won’t let them put him through what I’ve been through.” he snarled after a while. “I don’t care if he hates me. I won’t let them. Over my dead body.”

Chaff accepted his words with a disappointed twitch of the mouth, as if he had known from the start what his answer would be. The conversation drifted to other subjects. They probably should have headed back to the Training Center but he was feeling the need for a break and Eleven’s victor was _always_ eager to get as far away from the Games as possible.

In the end, Chaff got very drunk and Haymitch had to carry his dead weight back to the Center. A few cameras caught them, he thought, but there was nothing to do for it. It was late anyway, late enough that he knew Hayden and Trinket would probably start wondering where he had disappeared.

He dropped Chaff at his floor and swiftly avoided Seeder when she popped her head out of her room to see what the commotion was about. His friend knew a lot of bawdy songs and wasn’t afraid to sing them at the top of his lungs.

The penthouse was silent when he finally exited the elevator and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He would have to face Hayden eventually, of course, but he wasn’t impatient to do it. He shed his jacket on the back of the couch and headed straight for the liquor cart. He hadn’t drunk enough to be wasted, knowing he wouldn’t get away with doing it in public twice in as many days if his escort had anything to say about it. He was pouring himself a glass when the lights were abruptly switched on – something he rarely bothered to do anymore – and he froze, a bottle in his hand and the glass in another. Talk about getting caught red handed.

“You’re back.” Trinket said.

“I’m not drunk.” he snapped defensively before placing the bottle down to face her. She had obviously already gone to bed because she was wearing silky red shorts with a matching glossy red top, no dressing gown this time. Cherry red, he decided, was her color. Her blond hair was falling over her shoulder in a messy braid and her eyes were still clouded with sleep. The only thing out of place was the bruise on her cheek and, yet, the bruise wasn’t the reason Haymitch found his mouth parched all of a sudden.

“Alright.” she nodded, hiding a yawn behind her hand. “Hayden talked to Heather but she’s adamant about getting in an alliance with Two. They had a terrible argument.”

“He’s done sulking then?” he snorted, bringing the glass to his lips and very much _not_ eyeing her legs. They were endless. He was so focused on staring at her body, he didn’t notice the lack of answer until it was too late. She was watching him, chewing on her bottom lip and clearly debating with herself. “What’s up now, sweetheart?”

It was probably a poor choice of words because when she was looking like that, a few things would just have loved to get _up_.

He blamed the alcohol and the exhaustion for his poor lack of reactions. If he had known what she was going to do, he would have stopped her. But he was too slow and too stunned and, in the blink of an eye, she was right in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and he remained frozen on the spot.

“What are you doing?” he growled, torn between pushing her away and drawing her closer.

“Hayden was in great need of a hug earlier and I think you are too.” she explained.

That probably made a lot of sense in her odd little brain.

“I don’t need a hug, Trinket.” he scowled, swallowing the rest of his whiskey over her head. With her heels, she was roughly his height but without them, the top of her head barely reached his chin.

“Of course you need a hug, Haymitch.” she retorted, tightening his hold on him. “It is customary to embrace back when a friend hugs you, you know. It’s only proper.”

“Oh, so it’s proper to hug your boss in the middle of the night wearing next to nothing?” he mocked.

“First, you are not my boss. Second, I am wearing _pajamas_.” she argued. “Third, why does everything need to be a confrontation with you?”

“’Cause you’re hugging me and I don’t need a hug.” he grumbled.

“Has it occurred to you that perhaps _I_ needed comfort?” she retorted.

“You are a pain in the ass.” he hissed but he tentatively placed a hand on her hip. The fabric of her pajamas was thin, smooth and slightly cold to the touch. He wrapped his arm around her waist before he could think twice about it. His embrace was tentative at best but she waited patiently until he was hugging her back. He was trying very hard to think of anything but the feeling of her soft body against his.

“Do you trust me?” she whispered.

That was a loaded question.

Did he trust her? Did he trust _anyone_?

“I guess.” It was vague but it seemed to be good enough for her.

“Then _relax_.” she requested. “You are all tense.”

He figured if anything awkward accidentally happened next, it would be _her_ fault. He pulled her even closer to his chest, cradling the back of her head with his hand and burying his fingers in her hair, messing the braid even more than it already was. He propped his cheek on the top of her head, breathing in the exotic flower smell of her shampoo. One of her arm remained wrapped around his waist but her other hand gripped his shoulder from behind.

The embrace felt intimate, more intimate than anything he had allowed himself in a very long time. Worse, he gave in to it willingly. Maybe she wasn’t wrong and he had been in need of a hug or maybe it was just _her_ he needed. Or craved, rather. The slippery fabric under his hand was certainly not helping matters.

She shifted in his arms, looked up. It brought their faces _that_ much closer, their breaths mingled. He was certain she could smell the whiskey on his but instead of wrinkling her nose and stepping away like he expected her to, she imperceptibly leaned in. He could feel the racing of her heart where their chests were pressed tight against each other, her breathing was quick, her pupils were so wide her eyes looked more black than blue…

He wanted to kiss her.

The urge was an iron fist around his guts. It had been a while since he had felt something _that_ strong. Years, decades even.

 _He wanted to kiss her_.

She looked away suddenly, she ducked her head and cleared her throat… It broke the moment and Haymitch dropped his arms at once, a playful smirk already on his lips even though he felt anything but cocky at that second. They both stepped away from each other too quickly to be natural so there was no point denying the attraction.

“Next time, better not forget the dressing gown, sweetheart.” he snorted.

“Ruffian.” she huffed, a grin tugging at her lips. “It was a long day, I should…”

“Yeah.” he agreed quickly, turning back to the liquor cart.

He poured himself another drink and tried not to be too obvious as he stared at her retreating ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Are you melting from heat wave? I am. I hope you enjoy the chapter and please, do let me know what you think =)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sick-ish today and I proofread this by myself so I’m sorry for any eventual mistake that could have slipped through. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!

Gaius was killed as he was attempting to reach the Cornucopia.

It didn’t come as a surprise but Effie still felt a pinch in her heart when the boy fell. She was careful not to let it be seen, though, simply nodding and smiling like a good sport when someone from another team offered a word of regret or sympathy.

She hadn’t been as excited about the official launching party as she had been the year before and she had stuck close to Hayden as he lurked toward one of the pillars, close to the nearest exit. The bloodbath had been going on for a few minutes only on the giant screen but people – mentors, escorts and sponsors alike – were already trickling out of the Games Headquarters.

“Heather is still alive.” she whispered to her victor.

“For now.” he replied in the same low voice.

Neither of them expected the girl to last very long. Heather, despite days of arguing, had refused to listen to them about her alliance with the Careers. She had also straight out refused to be coached by Effie for the interviews which had resulted in a true mess on stage. Gaius had barely been better.

“I’m not sure what they’re playing at.” Hayden sighed, glancing at the pack of Career victors on the other side of the room. Gloss, Cashmere, Brutus, Enobaria and the two mentors from Three and Five were gathered, holding court to sponsors and laughing as if they were having the time of their lives. By all means, since Heather was part of the alliance, Hayden should have joined them except Effie wasn’t keen on going near Enobaria again and she knew her friend shared her feelings on the matter even though it was for different reasons. Each time his grey eyes fell on Enobaria, his cheeks flushed in shame. She had tried to talk to him about it but every time she brought up the subject he got withdrawn.

She didn’t think he had shared an actual conversation with Haymitch since that day either. Small talk at breakfast and dinner when the senior victor bothered to attend, yes, but other than that… Hayden avoided his brother, snapped at him more than he talked, and very much turned crimson every time Haymitch only hinted at what had happened – from shame or anger, that was anyone’s guess.

“Should we stay here or…” she hesitated, watching as more and more sponsors left the room, not looking interested at all by the fights taking place on the screens. The sponsors’ sudden lack of interest might have to do with the fact Mags and Finnick had just left. She didn’t think anybody cared about the Games this year, the last season was still too present on their mind.

Twenty-four children were sent in an arena to fight to the death for their amusement and most of the Capitol citizens couldn’t bother to watch.

She knew she would probably have been amongst those if she hadn’t started working as an escort. She knew she would have felt the same tiredness for those tributes who had nothing exceptional to offer when Finnick Odair had been so brilliant. She knew she would probably have laughed at Gaius’ clumsy answers during the interviews and mocked Heather for stumbling in her heels.

This new awareness of hers wasn’t something she rejoiced in.

As selfish and cruel as it might have sounded, she wished she was still ignorant, still self-absorbed by her own life. She wished the Hunger Games were still only a program on TV. She wished she didn’t know what was happening behind the scenes. She wished…

But wishes didn’t come true and there was nothing to do for it now but try and pretend she _didn’t_ know. Or, at least, that knowing didn’t affect her.

“Let’s go back to the penthouse.” Hayden suggested. “If she survives the bloodbath… We will see what we do then.”

Like the previous year, Haymitch was on the penthouse couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Caesar’s comments had been muted but the images spoke for themselves. Hayden dropped on the couch next to his brother without any greetings, leaving Effie to take one of the armchair.

It was difficult to say what they were really watching.

Effie had developed an aversion to the gruesome deaths that always happened at the very beginning of the Games. She wrinkled her nose every time blood was spilled and, as a consequence, kept her eyes on a corner of the screen – the corner where you could only the see the surrounding greenery – and forced herself to think about something else : pretty things like the _haute-couture_ dress she had her eyes on or the lovely pink wig with gems waved in the intricate braids.

Hayden was staring at the coffee table with such intensity Effie almost expected it to burst into flame.

As for Haymitch… Haymitch’s eyes were wandering lazily from his glass of whiskey to her and then to the screen in a loop.

She didn’t let herself wonder if he was thinking about the other night. _She_ shouldn’t have still been thinking about that. Clearly, he had been drunk and she had been more shaken by Enobaria’s attack than she had thought. She had intended the hug to be comforting, certain that he had been in the same need of emotional comfort as Hayden. And it had _been_ comforting. At first. After that… She could have sworn she could still feel his hand in her hair and she couldn’t stop wondering at how he would use that grip to deepen a kiss. She just knew he would. She _imagined_ he would.

And she needed to stop imagining it at once and focus back on the job.

She never could quite bear silence. Silence had been the golden rule when she was growing up : well-mannered little girls didn’t babble unnecessarily, they stood still and looked pretty like little dolls. It was another of those things her sister had been better at than she was. Effie hated the silence. All sort of ugly things lurked in a moment of silence : dread, resentment, boredom… Her parents’ house was full of silence.

“I should get in touch with One’s or Two’s escorts.” she suggested after a while.

The prospect of going anywhere near the Careers victors was unappealing but less so than the silent war the brothers were locked in.

“Not until we know what’s going on.” Hayden refused. “Heather might take off.”

It was painfully obvious every time she dared look at the screen that the girl had nothing whatsoever to offer to the Career pack. She hung back, looking green in the face, while the other teenagers secured the Cornucopia by any means necessary. They were lethal and ruthless.

“She won’t.” Haymitch countered. “She’s stupid.”

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s going to die.” Hayden snapped.

“Doesn’t make her any less stupid.” he shrugged.

“Stop. Both of you.” Effie requested. “Please.”

Haymitch made a dismissive gesture and went back to sipping his whiskey.

Silence fell back on their little group and Effie sighed.

At long last, the bloodbath came to an end. She didn’t know how many tributes were left but from the number of corpses surrounding the Cornucopia, it couldn’t be a lot. The Career pack was unscathed. The second they realized they were the only ones left in that section of the arena, they yelled their joy and congratulated themselves.

The boy from Two was the first one to turn towards Heather.

“Effie, you should go see what the Avoxes are cooking for dinner tonight. I feel like eating chicken…” Hayden said suddenly.

The request was ridiculous and she only understood the true purpose of it when the rest of the Career group started circling Twelve’s tributes like a pack of wild dogs. He was offering an out. He was offering the possibility to not watch what was going to happen. It would be horrid, she surmised, even for the Hunger Games.

“There is no need.” she protested, more bravely than she felt. “I…”

“I feel like eating chicken too.” Haymitch said abruptly. “Go tell them, Trinket.”

“But…” she tried to argue. It wasn’t that she wanted to watch… She felt as if she _ought_ to watch, as if she had a duty to do it. She had drawn out Heather’s name. It was _her_ responsibility if that girl was in that arena. The least she could do…

“Go.” Hayden insisted gently.

The TV was still on mute but she could see Heather’s lips moving in a frantic demand for explanations.

“Sweetheart. _Go_.” Haymitch added.

They spooked her off so she scrambled up and left, careful not to look back at the screen. She lingered in the kitchen as long as the excuse could hold but it was feeble to begin with and she stopped by her room o, her way back to check her make-up and hair. Heather was dead by the time she came back to the living-room, the feed had moved on to the two tributes from Eight who had teamed up and were now searching for water. Hayden was pacing, his hands clenched in fists, looking enraged. Haymitch didn’t seem to have moved one inch but his glass had been exchanged for a bottle.

“To another year of failure.” he toasted her.

His sarcasms were bitter and much more than she could stomach at that moment.

“I will do the paperwork.” she whispered to no one in particular.

“Make arrangements for me, please.” Hayden said. “I’m going back to Twelve.”

There was no mandatory staying for the eventual crowning that year, no one tried to oppose her when she secured him the right to escort the coffins back to their District as soon as possible. She was told under no uncertain terms that Haymitch was to stay until the end of the Games though. He expressed no surprise at that bit of news when she managed to corner him in the corridor later that evening. He simply shrugged and asked at what hour Hayden’s train was leaving.

Effie didn’t know exactly if they were fighting or not but the next day, when she escorted Hayden to his train, Haymitch was already waiting at the station.

Hayden didn’t particularly look surprised but he clearly wasn’t happy about it either. He let his brother hug him goodbye but it lacked the warmth he put in the embrace he gave her.

“Promise me you won’t mull too much over what happened this year.” she murmured, low enough that Haymitch wouldn’t hear.

Hayden flashed her half a smile that didn’t convinced her at all and kissed her cheek before boarding the train without a glance back or another word for his brother.

“You should talk to him.” she told Haymitch, as they were heading back to the car.

“He will stop sulking eventually.” he retorted, rolling his eyes. He waved away the Avox that rushed to open the door for her and did it himself. She suspected it had less to do with gallantry and more to do with the tight skirt she was wearing.

“Haymitch, his fight with Enobaria…” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to explain without betraying Hayden’s confidences. “It really affected him.”

“It should. She kicked his ass.” he snorted, slamming the door behind him. “ _And_ her tribute put us back in ‘our proper place’.” The scowl on his face was quickly hidden behind a carefully composed detachment. “It was badly handled from start to finish. He needs to learn how to use his _fucking_ head.”

“It wasn’t Hayden’s fault.” she snapped, as the car started. “It had nothing to do with him to begin with. I heard what Enobaria said.”

“Don’t you _dare_ put that on me.” he hissed. “ _You_ were the one who wanted good publicity. I gave it to you and I paid for it. Hayden paid for it too. You want to blame someone, sweetheart, take a look in a mirror.”

She turned her head as if he had slapped her. She stared through the tinted window, watching the familiars streets roll past. It was the rush hour, traffic was slow, she had enough time to notice the new collection in her favorite shoes shop’s window display.

_Take a look in a mirror_.

She took a look in a mirror every single day, several times an hour. She didn’t need the reminder. Her thoughts wandered to Stella, sweet gentle Stella, and Sage, who wished so badly to be a baker. The pain was still there, dulled to a slow ache now. Heather’s and Gaius’ deaths pained her too but not in the same way. She hadn’t grown attached to them. They wouldn’t let her. Perhaps it was for the best. _Certainly_ it was for the best.

“How come everyone thinks he has the worst end of the stick?” Haymitch grumbled after a while.

“I never said he had the worst end of the stick.” she countered quietly, still staring outside. It was easier than to face him. The world was bright in the Capitol streets, the sky was always bright blue and the sun was always shining. People were always happy.

“Chaff says I’m making his life miserable.” he spat.

“Chaff isn’t wrong.” she declared, as loathe as she was to admit it. She could have lied. Haymitch had asked her to be his friend and friends lied to each other all the time – or at least they did in her world – but it wasn’t how they worked. She had no reason to think he had ever lied to her, he had always told her the truth from the start, painful as it was. He had told her the truth about the Capitol when she would have gladly remained unaware. She thought she owed him the same.

“So you’re saying he _has_ the worst end of the stick.” he argued.

She could hear the pout in his voice and, underneath the mostly faked irritation, the pain. With a sigh, she turned from the window, leaving behind the bright colors to focus on him. The stubble was out of control, she mused, if she had ever met a man looking that scruffy she would have turned her head in disgust. But it suited him somehow. It suited him so much the mere sight of the stubble was making strange things to her stomach.

“I wasn’t aware it was a competition.” she retorted.

He studied her for a moment, his grey eyes searching hers for something. She didn’t know what he was hoping to find but he looked away suddenly.

“You’re sure you’re not crushing on him or something?” he mumbled at last.

This time it was her turn to roll her eyes. “You _do_ realize your brother asked me the exact same thing about you?”

“Yeah?” he snorted, glancing at her. “And?”

“And you are _insufferable_.” she huffed. “I don’t know why I put up with you. Either of you.”

She folded her arms and looked through the window again. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the Training Center now.

“You should talk to him.” she advised anyway. “I understand you don’t want to tell him the particulars but… It doesn’t mean you need to keep him at bay all the time like you do. It doesn’t mean you can’t be his brother.”

“I _am_ being his brother.” Haymitch snarled. “I’m protecting him.”

“But at what cost?” she asked. “Haymitch… You might be protecting him but you are losing him at the same time.” She grabbed his hand on a whim and gave it a gentle squeeze. “All those lies… It’s tainting your relationship.”

“He hates me.” he stated, staring at their hands.

“This isn’t what I said.” Effie sighed. “I said…”

“There’s nothing new here.” he cut her off with a shrug. “Let him hate me. It makes it easier.”

“No, it doesn’t.” she countered. “It _really_ doesn’t.”

He had nothing to answer to that but she noticed he didn’t snatch his hand away either.

She tried to bring up the subject again during the following days but he wouldn’t listen to her.

The boy from Three won amidst general indifference. At the Crowning, barely half the people knew his name. Effie certainly didn’t.

That year, she escorted Haymitch back to his train just like she had escorted Hayden. They didn’t hug goodbye, after what had happened the last time she didn’t think it clever. She offered him his hand for a professional handshake. He looked amused but he humored her.

Through no fault of their own, their fingers lingered.

Neither of them commented on it.


	23. Chapter 23

_Once clockwise and twice counterclockwise_.

Sure enough, Elindra Trinket stirred the tea spoon to the right once and to the left twice before carefully clicking it against the rim of the cup.

Tea with her mother always looked like an artistic performance and Effie watched the familiar choreography, attentive to play her part : her back was straight, her ankles crossed, her shoulders poised but not stiff, her neck gracefully stretched… _Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_ , she repeated to herself again and again.

“Are you applying for the vacancy in Four?” her mother asked.

After the half hour of almost uninterrupted silence, it took Effie by surprise.

“I… haven’t really thought about it.” she confessed.

The second the words were past her lips, she knew she had made her first mistake of the day. Her mother’s blue eyes bore into hers with such an intensity that Effie shivered, half certain that she could see right into her brain and her most carefully hidden secrets. When they were children, she and her sister had developed the theory that their mother was somehow a Mutt that could read minds. It had been Effie’s idea of course and a very good joke until Lyssa told on her. The lecture that had followed in their father’s study hadn’t been worth it.

“Really?” her mother insisted sweetly. It was too sweet to be honest. “Pray, tell me why?”

The huge grandfather clock in the corner of the room seemed to count the seconds Effie had left to live. The regular swish of the pendulum was the only noise to break the silence of her mother’s parlor. Effie had always hated that room. It was cold and impersonal, grand yes but not welcoming at all. The first thing she had done when she had bought her own apartment was to decorate in rich warm tones : mahogany, cherry wood, cream paint and pink carpet in her bedroom…

“I doubt they would let me transfer, Mother.” she lied.

Adelais’ announcement that she was stepping down from her position as an escort hadn’t been a huge shock but it had come at a rather short notice. She knew a lot of escorts from the outer districts had applied – Viola first and foremost, of course – but she hadn’t yet. For one thing, she was the newest addition to the escorts so she couldn’t very well expect a promotion so soon. For another thing, she had been congratulated by Head Gamemaker Torello himself about her work in Twelve. Apparently, she had established some sort of record regarding the time Hayden and Haymitch could bear their escort without requesting another one. She had understood the implicit statement that she would remain in Twelve as long as that status quo was working in everyone’s favor.  

“Why wouldn’t they?” her mother wrinkled her nose, placing her cup back on the saucer with a little too much strength. In the otherwise big silent room, the _click_ was deafening. “They can’t really well expect you to remain on Twelve’s team for much longer, can they? I will have your father look into it.”

“Oh, no!” she protested at once. Her mother narrowed her eyes at that completely inappropriate reaction. Effie cleared her throat and straightened her back. “I mean to succeed by myself, Mother. I do not wish for Father to intervene.”

Elindra pursed her mouth in obvious irritation. “I still disapprove the whole endeavor, Euphemia. Twelve’s escort isn’t a good enough position for you _or_ for the family name and, truth be told, I don’t think they will give you a more prestigious District without your father pulling strings.”

Effie wanted to remind her that, while they were wealthy and her father held some influence in the economic field, they were by no means the cream of the crop. There were wealthier and more influential people and there was no need to act as if they were some sort of nobility. Yet, her mother had always acted like that as far as she could remember and she knew there would be no point in arguing against “the family name”.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mother.” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Oh, please.” Elindra sighed, waving away what she probably considered to be an insolent reply. “You had some sort of fame with your modeling, dear, but we both know you would never have become _a big thing_. You are _not_ getting younger, Euphemia. There are already younger and prettier girls lining up to take your place.”

“I do think my position is secured, thank you.” she retorted briskly. At least, _that_ wasn’t a concern. She worked well with Twelve’s victors and everybody knew it. Haymitch and Hayden were happy to work with her. They wanted to keep her. So, yes, she could apply to Four – and Finnick would probably _love_ it – but she doubted Mags would approve of the transfer and if she did, Head Gamemaker Torello wouldn’t, simply because she knew Hayden and Haymitch would throw a fit.

“I do not understand you.” her mother lamented, shaking her head in a patronizing way. No hair on her green wig went astray. Like the rest of her person, it was rigid. “Do you enjoy losing? Twelve’s tributes are _always_ dreadful creatures. As for their victors…”

“They are both charming men.” Effie cut her off, finally bringing the cup to her lips, if only to give her hands something to do.

“Are they now?” Elindra asked in a purr. It was a dangerous tone. “You wouldn’t do anything idiotic like getting involved with a victor, would you, Euphemia? Victors are good publicity, I will grant you that. And they _can_ be a source of great amusement. Why I remember when I was a young girl, I had a fling with…”

“I wouldn’t get involved, no, Mother.” she interrupted again.

The poor show of manners displeased her greatly, Effie could see it, but she would rather displeased her mother than hearing fond recollection of her wild years.

“The younger one is your age, isn’t he? What’s his name again…” Elindra clicked her fingers absent-mindedly.

“Hayden.” Effie provided. “Yes, we are the same age.”

“Hayden, yes.” her mother nodded. “He is rather handsome. He looks like a drag, though. It wouldn’t hurt him to smile now and then, you should tell him.”

The tea was cold and Effie placed the cup and saucer back down on the little table. She eyed the scones but knew reaching for one would mean a comment about watching her figure. Pastry goods in this house often went straight to the trash uneaten and untouched.

“I will be sure to relay your opinion to him, Mother. I’m sure he will appreciate it.” she deadpanned.

“As he should.” Elindra replied but she was distracted. She was watching Effie like a hawk. “What about the older one? Haymitch. This one _does_ have a reputation for liking pretty things, darling.”

“Fortunately, I made it clear to him I wasn’t a _thing_.” Effie snapped, barely softening the annoyance in her voice with a smile.

Her mother hummed without committing to anything. “I suppose his tastes also depends on the size of the person’s wallet. He likes them old and rich from what I hear.” Effie clenched her jaw and refused to answer. After a few seconds of stubborn silence on her daughter’s part, Elindra changed the subject. “What color do you dye your hair, lately? I hear a mix of blue and purple is going to be the latest rage.”

Effie tried not to cringe too obviously but her mother picked up on it all the same.

“Euphemia…” her mother sighed. “ _Please_ , tell me you are still dying your hair.”

“I meant to do it but I never seem to get around to it.” Effie defended herself quickly. “I have so much work… And I am not dating at the moment so who will know but me?”

She chose wigs for practical reasons. First, it allowed her to switch styles and colors every day. Then, it meant she didn’t have to deal with the untamable mane of curls on her head which – dyed or not – was a pain to deal with on its most amiable day.

And since she wasn’t in any relationship at the moment, nobody was there to see her in her plain natural self so she simply didn’t bother with hair dye.

“I am taking you to the salon, tomorrow.” Elindra declared on a tone that bore no discussion. “They have a new long time dye. It lasts for months. Lyssa already tried it.”

_Of_ _course_ , Lyssa had tried it.  

“Yes, Mother.” she relented, trying to put some cheer into her voice. She didn’t have to force herself much. The prospect of being pampered at a salon was appealing even though she just knew her mother would criticize everything from her manicure to her hair.

“And what do you _mean_ you aren’t dating at the moment?” Elindra chided her. “Euphemia, you are twenty-eight and…”

Effie tuned out the rest of the lecture, simply nodding when she ought to. In the end she had no choice but to agree to meet one of her friend’s son. A charming young man called Paleo – although young might be a slight exaggeration because she found out later that he was well in his forties – who came from a respectable family – meaning he was rich – and had a lot of connections.

Effie had never been so eager to escape her mother’s house than that day.

She rushed home and called Livia who, while completely sympathetic, didn’t quite understand what her problem was with meeting a new man or getting her hair dyed. She called Twelve next. She was in a habit to call Hayden every fortnight, to keep him apprised on the stylists and sponsors front as much as to catch up, and he usually was happy to listen to her ranting and agree with everything she said.

It was Iris who picked up. Hayden wasn’t at home and neither was Haymitch – not that Effie had asked – so she ended up talking with Mrs Abernathy. It was easy to understand why the brothers loved her so much, she was a strong willed woman with a very loving side. The few days she had spent in their house a year earlier had been enough for her to understand how close the whole family was despite the regular feuds. She was a little amazed by it, if she had to be honest. She loved her own family and she knew they loved her but they didn’t work in the same way.

For instance, even though she was her older sister, the idea that Lyssa would do for her what Haymitch was doing for Hayden was preposterous. And the reverse would have been completely as unimaginable. She loved Lyssa because she was her sister and that was what sisters did but they had never been close and she certainly wouldn’t sacrifice her whole life for her. Effie was selfish that way.

She decided it must be a District thing and she was very much a _Capitol_.

So, the next day, she willingly went with her mother to the salon and she forced herself to take whatever advice her mother was giving her. Elindra said Effie’s nails should be silver with turquoise spirals so Effie got silver nails with turquoise spirals. Elindra said she should get purple and blue dye for her hair so Effie got purple and blue dye for her hair. Elindra said she looked awful and needed a facemask so Effie got a facemask.

At the end of the day, Elindra was happy and Effie expectant but all she got for her trouble was a kiss goodbye three inches away from her cheek and a reminder to act like a proper lady during her date with Paleo. That was how her mother showed her love : not through gentle gestures and hugs but through abrupt commands.

It was very different from Iris Abernathy’s style. Again, Effie mused, it must be a District thing.

Paleo turned out to be a nice man, if a little old for her. She accepted a second date and a third. He covered her with flowers and jewels and told her she was beautiful. After a few nights he confessed he loved her hair color – the blue matched her eyes, according to him – but that she should really do something about the curls. She started straightening it even though it took far too much time. It was worth it to see the look of utter worship in his eyes.

Effie was happy.

And if she sometimes thought about another man when she was in Paleo’s bed, she blamed the exhaustion.

After all, it was Haymitch who had told her to be careful with the sleeping pills so it was only natural to think about him when she was so tired her mind wandered, wasn’t it?

°O°O°O°

Haymitch’s lips twitched with annoyance.

“Is he still chopping logs?” his mother asked from the couch where she was knitting.

He dropped the curtain and stopped spying on his brother to face her. “Yeah.”

They had too many logs already. Winter was almost at an end and it seemed to him Hayden had spent the last few months either chopping wood or randomly throwing knives on a makeshift target when he wasn’t finding excuses to move heavy things around.

It looked a lot like training to Haymitch.

“Well… At least we will be ready for next year.” his mother sighed, glancing at the neat pile of logs waiting next to the fireplace.

She went back to her knitting and he peered behind the curtain again, watching his brother lift the rusty axe over his head and let it fall.

“I’m worried about him.” she said softly, after a few more moments of silence. “Did something happen last year?”

“No.” he lied at once.

“Really? Then where were those fading bruises on his throat coming from?” she insisted, not without irony. “You boys should know better than trying to hide anything from me by now.”

Haymitch snorted. _If you only knew_ , he thought.

“There was an argument with another victor.” he explained vaguely. “I don’t think Hayden took too kindly to getting his ass kicked. Or maybe it was me saving his ass again that he didn’t like, go figure.”

“Watch your language, Haymitch.” she chided him.

He could feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of his head but he kept looking outside. The snow was quickly melting, Victory Tour had come and gone, soon it would be spring and another Reaping would take place and Haymitch was _so_ tired of it all already.

“Do you remember that time when you were thirteen and you went playing near the mines?” she asked out of the blue.

“I remember the spanking and the grounding.” he chuckled.

He, Mabel and a few others used to meet up at a particular spot not far from an abandoned section of the mines where they were sure nobody would find or follow them for the very good reason that it was a very dangerous place where the ground was unstable at best and threatened to cave in under your every step. It didn’t sound so clever on retrospect but at the time, it seemed like a genius plan. From there, they could use a nearby hole in the fence and go to the woods. It had to be carefully calculated because the electrical fence was still working properly back then. There were lull hours, though, regular times of the day when it had been turned off either to refuel the generators or to save some electricity.

“Do you remember the day your brother followed you?” she insisted.

His amusement died down at once. He _did_ remember that day. Hayden had been a pain in the ass, whining and throwing a tantrum so Haymitch would let him come with him… He had refused, of course, not only because it was too dangerous for a eight years old but also because he had no intention of taking him to the woods. Hayden had sneaked after him and had followed at a distance up until the hole in the fence. His sweater had caught on a wire and he had remained stuck.

It was lucky Mabel had been late that day. She had found him and she had freed him before he could have gotten himself fried to a crisp. Hayden had been badly frightened and had ran home to cry about it to their mother. It had been his fault of course because he had been supposed to watch Hayden but her mother had been fair at the time, Haymitch had been lectured until he thought he would be going deaf and Hayden had been punished too for not listening to him in the first place.

“He always has to make everything difficult.” Haymitch commented in a low voice.

The situation, right now, was just like that day long gone. If only Hayden would let him take care of everything and stay put like he told him to… But that would never happen.

“He admires you.” his mother stated.

“Like hell.” he scoffed.

He heard her place her knitting aside and stand up in a chorus of creaking noises – a life worth of working like a slave had aged her prematurely – he was expecting the hand on his shoulder and he relaxed under that gentle contact.

“You’re not the same boy you were at thirteen, Haymitch. You changed.” she offered quietly. “But he is still looking up to you.”

He didn’t dispute her the point and, yet, he wanted to shout to her just how wrong she was. He had changed, yes, but at heart, he was exactly the same boy and he was doing exactly the same thing he had always done : protecting them.

“He needs a friend.” she insisted. “Do try to be his friend.”

“He has Trinket.” he shrugged. She called every other week and they spent hours on the phone talking about nonsense – or rather, he suspected _she_ talked and Hayden tried and failed to contribute to the conversation.

His mother instantly brightened up. “She’s a nice girl for a Capitol.”

“Yeah.” he muttered.

She peered behind the curtain too, a delighted smile on her lips. “Do she and your brother…”

“No.” he cut her off before she could start imagining things.

“How can you be sure?” she pouted in disappointment. “He’s very attached to her and she’s…”

“Not interested.” he finished firmly. “She told me.”

At _that_ tiny bit of information, Iris Abernathy’s focus switched to him. She dropped the curtain and studied him for the longest moment. Ill at ease, he walked away from the window and to the fireplace with the vague intention to add more logs to a fire that didn’t need it.

“Now, Haymitch…” his mother started. “Why would _you_ ask her something like that?”

He grabbed the poker and stab the fire at random. “That’s my business, Mama.”

“Do _you_ like her?” she insisted.

How could someone sound delighted and dreadful at the same time? She was probably hoping he had fallen madly in love with Trinket and that she would fix his womanizing behavior and, at the same time, she was probably afraid it was just one more careless affair that would leave her little Capitol friend heartbroken.

“I’m thirty-three. Can you butt out of my love life?” he grumbled.

Not that Trinket had _anything_ to do with his nonexistent love life. He wasn’t interested. At all. And if he sometimes had dreams that involved her, her cherry red pajamas, and a king sized bed, and if those dreams often led him to get better acquainted with his right hand or a freezing shower, it was _his_ problem.

“Trinket and Hayden are just friends.” he repeated. “Besides, he has his eyes on the redhead who sells potatoes at the market.”

“She’s married!” his mother gasped, outraged.

“Well, tell that to your other son.” he snorted.

He had a feeling he would enjoy that particular lecture just as much as Hayden had snickered when _he_ had been lectured about hiding bottles of liquor next to the geese pen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... What do we think about this chapter? Do you hate me a little? A lot? Please if you have read until here and you have liked, let me know! I literally live for feedback.


	24. Chapter 24

“Who’s the guy?” Haymitch asked, in a detached sort of voice.

Hayden glanced at him, not hiding his annoyance at Haymitch’s insistence to tag along to the sponsors luncheon. The sixty-seventh Hunger Games had barely started and already Twelve’s team seemed to be well behind all others.

The Reaping had gone as could only be expected : a thirteen years old girl from the Seam and a sixteen years old boy from town. From the little time he had spent in their presence, Haymitch had gathered they were both nice kids and that neither of them would ever win. He had been waiting for more innovative ideas from Trinket but she had been strangely dismissive, simply stating that they should stick to the previous year strategy : Haymitch would tackle interviews with her and Hayden would mentor. It suited him just fine but something weird was going on with her. She wasn’t exactly avoiding him but she wasn’t seeking him out either. She didn’t seem to have any problem with Hayden, on the other hand, so it must have been something that he had done or said.

The thing was, as much as he tried to remember, he couldn’t figure what it was that was making her act so distant. He had behaved at the Reaping – under threats from Hayden – and he had stayed out of the tributes’ way on the train which meant he hadn’t seen much of his brother and their escort…

Not that it mattered anyway.

As far as Games went, this one wasn’t starting on a bad foot for him. No grey envelope had found their way to him yet and it was a cause for celebration in his book. He was planning on abducting Chaff to check out the new bars downtown later on. Meanwhile, he intended to shadow Hayden and make sure he wasn’t planning something stupid like… take his revenge on Enobaria.

“Boyfriend.” Hayden finally mumbled.

Haymitch’s eyebrows shot up and he gave another look at the man Trinket was speaking with. He would have pegged him as a new sponsor – it _was_ a sponsor luncheon after all – not… anything related to their escort. For one thing, the black dyed hair pushed back on his scalp did little to hide the beginning of a bald crown on the top of his head. For another, the man’s face was clearly pumped with plastic. He supposed he could have passed for attractive if Trinket wasn’t so obviously out of his league.

“Since when does she have a boyfriend?” he spat, as another detail became clear to him. How old was that guy?

“Two months?” Hayden shrugged. “Three? I’m not sure. Her mother set them up.”

“No surprise. He’s _ancient_!” Haymitch scoffed.

His brother stopped glaring at Enobaria who was laughing for the benefits of her little gaggle of sponsors, and studied Trinket’s supposed boyfriend. “She likes him a lot, from what she told me. And you’re one to talk, you’re always going off with older women.”

He suppressed the instinctive shudder at that comment and hid it behind an off-hand smirk. “Yeah, but I’m me and Trinket’s better than that. _Seriously_ , look at him.”

The more he watched the guy, the more he wanted to march over there and rip his hands off her body. She didn’t seem to mind the small touches – why would she if they were indeed together? – but Haymitch found it absolutely revolting. The man had a hand at the small of her back and kept bending low to whisper in her ear, she giggled and smiled and very much batted her eyelashes and he couldn’t get it out of his mind that she was putting on a show for the man’s benefits.

“Haymitch?” his brother nudged him.

“What?” he snapped.

“You’re staring.” Hayden remarked.

“I’m not.” he grumbled. “I want a drink. Don’t go ambushing Enobaria while I find the booze.”

He wasn’t expecting his brother to follow him but Hayden fell in step with him, not even getting angry at that last sneer, as Haymitch headed for the bar.

“Why does it bother you?” Hayden asked, as Haymitch gestured to the bartender and ordered a whiskey and one of those awful lighter blue cocktail his brother liked. “The boyfriend?”

“’Cause it doesn’t bother you?” he retorted, taking a sip of whiskey and pushing the cocktail in front of Hayden.

“She looks happy.” his brother shrugged. “Yeah, he’s older but… If she’s happy…”

“He’s creepy.” he argued.

That wasn’t exactly true. There was no question the man was attracted to her and he also looked to be genuinely taken with her. Then again, why wouldn’t he? Even in those ridiculous Capitol fashionable outfits, she looked… very good. The see-through lace that covered most of her dress wasn’t helping matters, he decided.

“Don’t go and ruin that for her.” Hayden warned, his voice suddenly turning serious. “I know you, Haymitch. Right now, you’re thinking you want her but you want her _just_ because now you can’t have her.”

That was wrong on _so_ many levels.

Firstly, he wasn’t _thinking_ he wanted her, he _knew_ he wanted her, it was the cleverness of wanting her he wasn’t sure about. Secondly, it had nothing to do with her suddenly not being single. Thirdly…

“Who says I can’t have her?” he challenged.

Hayden rolled his eyes. “How many times did she turn you down?”

On retrospect, not so many. None since she had found out his true pathetic life story and the last time _he_ had been the one to say no. And there was the odd hug too, of course…

He shook his head and looked away. Effie Trinket was a can of worms he simply shouldn’t concern himself with.

“How’s the competition this year?” he asked for lack of a better subject.

He hadn’t bothered with watching the Reaping recap. He had no idea what they were facing.

Hayden didn’t look fooled by his change of topic but he humored him anyway, summarizing who he thought would be the real dangers that year.

Haymitch wasn’t surprised to learn the girl Enobaria was mentoring was the first on the list.

°O°O°O°

The silence was getting to Effie but her numerous attempts at chatter had fallen flat every time, so she focused on cutting her meat, glancing at the people sitting around the table and trying to evaluate where the problem was. Dinner after the first day of Training was always a tense affair but that night, there seemed to be something more behind it.

The girl, Tilly, was leaning on her arm – no matter how many times Effie told her elbows had no business touching the table, she would forget after a few seconds – absent-mindedly rummaging her food around her plate with her other hand. The boy, Alec, was eating but slowly and mechanically, his brown eyes lost somewhere in the distance. Haymitch, she thought, was trying his best to annoy her by not chewing properly and sometimes dripping little pieces of meat in his wine glass. And Hayden watched everything and looked more and more dreadful.

“Alright.” he said at last and Effie was relieved because she didn’t think she could take any more. “Shoot. What happened at Training?”

The two tributes looked at each other and Tilly’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

“They’re all big and strong and they can use weapons!” the girl exclaimed. “The girl from Two, she’s _huge_ and she grabbed an axe and…”

“It wasn’t pretty, what she did to that dummy.” Alec finished. He forced a smile immediately after and nudged Tilly. “But I told you, we just have to sneak around her and the other Careers in the arena and we will be fine.”

Effie very much doubted they would be fine and it was already breaking her heart. Unlike Heather and Gaius the year before, Tilly and Alec were making it difficult for her to remain detached. Once the first hours of despair and resentment had passed, they had proven themselves attentive to whatever advice she and Hayden had given them. She only had to tell them twice to stand straight and to smile for instance.

“You stay _very_ far away from Two.” Hayden approved.

“Last year…” Tilly started.

Effie knew she meant Heather. She had never actually seen her death – or murder rather – she had been very careful about not watching the various reruns.

“Last year was special.” Hayden argued. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

Effie’s eyes darted to him but she pressed her lips tight together not to let anything show on her face. They never made false promises if they could help it and she didn’t see how the junior victor could fulfill that one.

“Better not.” Haymitch cut in. His voice was light but she could hear the warning in there and no doubt Hayden could hear it too.

He chose to ignore his brother. “You decided to ally, then?”

Tilly was watching Alec with big pleading grey eyes and the boy, after a few seconds of understandable hesitation – even Effie could see the thirteen years old would be a burden rather than a help – nodded with a mostly fake smile. “Yeah, sure.” He reached to ruffle the girl’s hair which made her giggle. “We have better chances together.”

“Good. It will make the mentoring easier.” Hayden smiled, obviously relieved. The previous year, their tributes had _insisted_ upon not being trained together and that had been a hassle to keep everything from the other.

Effie remained mostly silent for the next part of the conversation, only adding a small word of reassurance here and there when it was needed while Hayden gave them the traditional speech about learning how to find or make shelter, the importance of water and why it was important they learn how to use snares. Learning how to survive in a natural environment was the first step, he insisted, an axe would be of no use against the cold.

“Except if you have wood to chop.” Haymitch snorted.

Faced with similar glares from Hayden and her, he rolled his eyes and fell silent but there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

It took her a few seconds to realize Tilly was grinning, a little more relaxed now, and that it had probably been his aim.

Her heart desperately wanted to soften but she kept a tight grip on herself. There would be no softening of her heart, no pondering just how grey his eyes were and no wondering how itching his stubble would be if…

“What do you say, Effie?”

She _didn’t_ jump.

And since she had no idea what Hayden was talking about, she simply clapped her hands with a nod for the surrounding Avoxes. “I say it’s time for dessert.”

The children were delighted with the strawberry and chocolate cake and she insisted that they should have another slice. Hayden cut them himself, generous both with the chocolate and the whipped cream. She refused with a little wave when he made as if to drop a slice on her plate.

“You’re stuffing them but you’re not eating.” Haymitch commented.

She glared at him. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Never seen you pass on strawberries and chocolate before.” he shrugged. “You’re on a diet or something?”

Hayden remained frozen with the metallic spatula in his hand, watching them both in turn. It was fortunate the children were busy talking between themselves.

“I am _not_ hungry.” she repeated.

Haymitch’s eyes were twinkling and she just knew he would make this difficult.

“Afraid your boyfriend will dump you if you gain a pound?” he teased.

She shouldn’t have been surprised he knew about that. Paleo hadn’t been particularly discreet at the luncheon – _not_ that there was any reason to hide anyway – and Hayden had been aware she was in a relationship since it had started becoming serious.

“Haymitch.” Hayden growled. There was a warning in there. A warning Haymitch clearly didn’t head.

“Oh, sorry, maybe you don’t like _boyfriend_. Sugar Daddy works better for you?” Haymitch sneered. “He was so old I couldn’t tell.”

“ _Haymitch_.” Hayden snapped.

Effie’s eyes narrowed. “You are a _disgusting_ man.”

“That’s all you can come up with?” he challenged.

“Oh, I could come up with a thousand depreciative adjectives for you, Haymitch, but you simply aren’t worth my time when you’re in this kind of mood.” she snapped. “Why is it you often feel the need to be cruel?”

His laughter was cold and lacked amusement. “That’s not _cruel_ , sweetheart. You want cruel? Turn on the TV in a few days…”

“Stop.” Hayden demanded. “ _Now_.”

The children were watching them. Tilly’s eyes were round with shock and Alec’s face was contemplative.

“Why don’t you two go to the living-room?” she suggested, her fake smile stretching her lips without much effort on her part. “We will be there shortly.”

She heard the girl asking Alec what Haymitch meant and the boy simply ruffled her hair again and replied that he didn’t know. Effie had the nagging suspicion he _did_ know.

“My private life isn’t up for discussion.” she announced as soon as they were left alone.

“But mine is?” Haymitch shot back. “You never had _any_ problem telling me _everything_ you thought about it.”

“Is it what this is about?” she retorted. “Petty revenge because I dared voice my opinion last year?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” he spat. “Why are you such a bitch this year?”

She had nothing to answer to that. She had tried to put back some well-needed distance with him, she hadn’t thought he would notice. Obviously she had been wrong.

“Is this how you and Mama feel all the time, Effie?” Hayden interrupted suddenly. “’Cause I don’t like it. Stop it, both of you.”

“Or what? You’re going to send us to our room?” Haymitch scoffed.

Hayden glared at him but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he flashed his brother a sly grin and turned to Effie.

“I think he’s jealous ‘cause he suddenly realized you wouldn’t fall at his feet like all the other ones.” he announced.

She wasn’t sure what to answer to that so it was probably fortunate Haymitch stood up so abruptly he knocked the table, sending plates and glasses rattling against each other.

“I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.” he spat, before storming out. They heard the chime of the elevator a few seconds later.

It took her much longer than it ought to realize she was still sitting in front of her empty plate, her napkin forgotten in her hand. Her sight was blurry but she couldn’t tell if she was hurt or angry.

“Effie, you’re okay?” Hayden asked softly.

The smile came unbidden and she batted her fake eyelashes several times, making sure no traces of tears remained.

“Of course.” she lied.

Her friend didn’t look convinced. He was studying her closely. “That was intense even for Haymitch. Did something…”

“No.” she cut him off, rising to her feet quickly. “We should check on the children.”

Checking on the children evolved into another lecture about the fauna and the flora she had next to none interest about. She was relieved when they sent them to bed and kept the discussion Games oriented over the tea she shared with Hayden.

She was relieved when they finally decided to call it a night.

Not that she could sleep. Sleep had become dangerous territory she was afraid to visit without sleeping pills. Still, the pills were addictive and she was careful with how she used them. Last resort only.

So she lied on her bed, drifting off more than actually falling asleep. She checked the clock when she heard the telltale noises of someone stumbling around the penthouse in the dark. Four o’clock. She hoped he wasn’t drunk – not drunk enough that it would be the first thing she would see on TV when she would get up anyway. She listened carefully, ready to get out of bed if she heard the smallest hint of a fall but he seemed to be doing alright by himself. If he was capable of going back to his room alone, it couldn’t have been that bad.

She was almost sorry for it. If she had helped him to bed, perhaps they could have talked and she could have tried to explain. Perhaps he even would have understood.

Paleo was a good man. She wasn’t in love with him, no, but who was in love with their partner in the Capitol? Relationships were often a mutual agreement in which everyone found their own benefits. She was beautiful, young and funny and Paleo loved that. He was rich, respectable and her mother was finally happy with her. He treated her right, he was nice and he covered her with gifts. He was starting to drop hints they should move in together. Yes, he was older than she was and, yes, she knew she was falling in the trophy wife trap she had always been so desperate to avoid but… It was easy. It was easy when everything else was so _damned_ complicated.

The stumbling stopped. He had paused in front of her door.

Her heart started racing, her imagination already running wild. Somehow, she doubted that if they found themselves face to face at that second, they would manage to talk it out like friends would. She could climb out of bed, she mused. She could see it all happening in her head : she would cross the small distance to the door – even though it looked more like an abyss at the moment – she would open it and he would be standing there, slightly disheveled in a way that should be more repulsive than appealing, they would stare at each other and then… Then there would be no word, he would grab her, bury his fingers in her hair and crash his mouth on hers and he would push her back in the room and slam the door shut with his foot. From there, it would only be a small trip to the bed and…

The stumbling started again.

The door remained closed.

Effie pressed her pillow to her face and muffled a frustrated scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... Someone's jealous ;) Let me know what you think please!


	25. Chapter 25

“Okay.” Chaff sighed, interrupting Haymitch’s long rant.

“I’m not done.” he argued.

“I am.” his friend replied.

Right then, another woman sneaked up to them and grabbed Haymitch’s hand, begging for a dance. Twelve’s victor was barely polite when he shot her down. It was the fifth of the night and he truly hoped none of them had enough influence to get him in trouble with Snow over not being _Capitols-friendly_. The party was crowded, the club was new and packed with potential sponsors he had no intention of approaching, and the occasional victor. The music was loud, almost to the point of being deafening, and they had to shout to hear each other even though they had found a table in the back, in a relatively dark corner, well away from the stereo speakers.

“You know I actually regret the time I was sick and tired of hearing about your brother’s latest bullshit?” Chaff asked good-naturedly. “Well, now, I’m sick and tired of hearing about Trinket and her shiny grandpa boyfriend. If I hear _one more time_ about how you think she’s stupid, I _swear_ I’m going to stab myself with one of these toothpicks.”

He nodded to the empty bowl of olives on the table where only toothpicks were left.

“It’s not _all_ I talk about.” he grumbled.

Although it _had_ been a major feature in all of his conversations lately. Ever since he had seen the man a few days earlier. It wasn’t his fault truly. Hayden kept dropping details – alright, maybe he had _asked_ for the details but what was he supposed to talk to his brother about when they were left alone? The Games were out of the question. Any subject related to their own past was sensitive… And Trinket was waltzing in and out, flaunting her relationship for everyone to see – and, _alright,_ maybe that was unfair because she had been walking on eggshells around him lately so she definitely hadn’t been _flaunting_ anything but they shared a penthouse, he couldn’t help but see her everyday and she strutted around in those high heels of her in barely-there skirts and…

“What kind of name is _Paleo_ anyway?” he spat.

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sakes!” Chaff sighed, pressing his stump against his forehead, and poured himself another drink. “Haymitch, buddy… Fuck her, marry her or kill her but just… _do something_ before everyone around you becomes crazy.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about her.”

“ _Sure_.” Eleven’s mentor snorted. “My mistake. Please, go on ranting about how that guy’s too old and too creepy to touch _your_ girl.”

“Not _my_ girl.” he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Chaff waved his lump at him. “You heard about Mags?”

Haymitch shook his head, taking a sip of his whiskey. Finnick jumped on him every chance he got which amused him. The boy had found no friends in the younger victors who either envied him his popularity or mistrusted him simply because he was still unaware of some of the most unpleasant aspects of what being a popular victor entailed. He was a good kid and he was stubborn, instead of accepting his fate and resigning himself to a life of mentoring without any friends in the other Districts’ teams like Hayden had done, Finnick had decided Haymitch was the next best thing and tagged along often enough that he had become a regular third party to Haymitch and Chaff’s meetings. Except they didn’t let him drink anything stronger than orange juice.

Haymitch didn’t know if he was more afraid of Four’s other mentor or of the combined threat of Trinket and Viola.

“She’s making deals left and right.” Chaff said.

The music was so loud, he read the words on his friend’s lips rather than actually hear them. Perhaps it was on purpose. He hadn’t taken a good look at Four’s tributes that year but nobody was talking about them so they couldn’t be so exceptional Mags was already securing deals. It probably had nothing to do with the Games at all.

“How long can she hold?” he asked.

Finnick was sixteen now and he was still the most popular victor the Hunger Games had seen in a long time. Mags had connections and enough dirt on important people to be very good at blackmailing – you weren’t a victor for fifty years without gathering that kind of skills. Haymitch had his own little stock of information that could prove themselves useful if he ever needed them. Yet, everything had its limits. Power changed hands quickly in the Capitol. The only constant was the puppet master and there was no blackmailing _him._

Mags wouldn’t be able to spare Finnick forever.

“A year? Not much more.” Chaff shrugged. “His parents are dead, no? He doesn’t have any family. He could put his foot down. They don’t have any leverage.”

“They’re good at finding it.” Haymitch argued.

Chaff granted that point with a sad tilt of the head and a silent toast to the unfairness of it all. He was the lucky one, Haymitch mused, he had refused the artificial limb they had offered after he had won and so he had remained crippled. Of course, Chaff had lost a hand in the process but, at least, no Capitol would gawk at him with desire. The sight of the stump sometimes caused morbid curiosity but it certainly shot down any misplaced feeling of lust.

The discussion drifted to less loaded topics but Finnick’s fate weighted on Haymitch’s mind and they called it a night earlier than usual. They had a car waiting up front but they felt like walking. The Capitol never slept. No matter at what time Haymitch would wander the streets, they were always busy, there were always people partying. People always looked so merry it bordered on despair, as if they were trying to fill their hollow life with alcohol, sex and entertainment.

“They’re going to go grand, this year.” Chaff predicted when the conversation circled back to the Games and what the arena might held in store. “Last year was a flop. Snow can’t be pleased about that.”

Haymitch agreed with that assessment. Hayden kept preparing the tributes as if they were going to be dropped in woods or a jungle – and it was usually a variation of that – but Haymitch had the feeling this year would have nothing to do with that. It had been some times since the arena hadn’t been a desert or something equally dangerous.

“How long have we known each other?” Chaff asked, out of the blue, as the elevator reached the fourth floor.

“’Don’t know.” he lied. Time was a relative concept. It had been seventeen years since he had won but it felt like seventeen centuries – seventeen years since he had woken up in an unfamiliar hospital room to find Chaff standing at the foot of his bed. His friend had been a young man then, barely twenty-two himself, but he had always been a goofy sort of person and there had been an amused grin on his lips when he had announced he had pulled the shortest straw and was stuck with babysitting him. Haymitch still didn’t know if that was true or if Chaff had chosen to help.

“That long, yeah?” Eleven’s victor snorted. “Well, in all that time, I never saw you so hung up on a girl. Now, she’s Capitol, buddy, so I’m not saying this is clever and I’m very serious when I say watch your ass but if you want her so bad, maybe it’s worth a shot, you know?”

“I’m not _hung up_ , we’re friends and she deserves better than an old creepy guy who’s going to be completely bald in three years.” he snapped.

“When did you start being a coward?” Chaff taunted. “The boy I remember wasn’t a coward.”

“The boy you remember should have been clever enough to let One win.” he scowled.

His friend didn’t dispute that point.

The elevator reached the eleventh floor but Chaff didn’t step out at once. He paused, as if weighing his next words in his mind. When he spoke, it wasn’t in his usual booming voice but in a low whisper that bugs would probably have trouble catching. “You’re playing their game, you’re already their puppet. They won’t hurt her because you have a fling with her.” He bumped the stump against Haymitch’s shoulder. “You know, in case that’s what’s stopping you.”

Perhaps it was. In part.

A bigger part was that he _was_ a coward and he was terrified of just how big that fling could be. He hadn’t let any woman close since Mabel. People who fell in his bed were either _special appointments_ or women he picked out at random in a bar and even those were few. He disliked one-night stands. Sex was a mean to an end and nothing more. It never was as good as he felt it should be.

In the beginning, after the first few _appointments_ , he had an habit of going to the next closest place, finding a woman he liked and fucking her. It was literally that : _fucking the Capitol back just like they had fucked him._ Those nights left him feeling disgusted on more than one level so he had started getting wasted instead. He could remember just how helpless, how miserable it had made him feel at first.

Now it had been twelve years since his first _special_ _appointment_ and he had grown indifferent. He still hated it of course and he had learned long ago to separate the mind from the body in those occasions but… he was used to it. It was probably his most pathetic little secret : he didn’t have the energy to be outraged and revolted by being sold like an animal anymore.

He wondered how long it would take Finnick to get to that point once Mags would give up her losing battle. They _would_ find leverage to use against the boy. They always did eventually.

The penthouse was silent and dark and the temptation to crash on the couch and drink himself into oblivion was huge. He hadn’t gotten wasted in some time, now – Trinket’s rule about not being seen drunk out of his mind in public was a pain but that was the terms of her bargain and he would respect them, at least it didn’t cost him any money or any shred of his dignity. His feet didn’t take him to the living-room though.

For the second time in less than a week, he found himself in front of her door. He had paused there on his way back, on the first day of training, after their fight. He had paused and he had fantasized about her opening the door in her cherry red pajama. Then he had started walking again.

He didn’t know what possessed him to knock tonight.

First, he wasn’t the knocking kind. Second, that wasn’t a good idea regardless of what Chaff had to say on the matter. Third, he didn’t know what he would tell her, they weren’t on speaking terms since the fight – although he suspected she secretly enjoyed seeing Hayden playing buffer since she had to do that for them so many times.

“Come in.” came the distracted invitation.

Throwing caution to the wind, he opened the door. Maybe he could tell her about Finnick. She liked the boy and she would listen and then she would tell him it wasn’t his fault – and it certainly _wasn’t_ but he still felt responsible somehow – and then he wouldn’t feel better but he would feel less lonely. It was strange how you could live with two other people on a permanent basis and still be _so_ lonely.

She was sitting on her bed, her legs folded on the side, surrounded by papers, she was still dressed. She glanced up when he closed the door behind him and her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. I thought it was Hayden.”  

“Why? He’s used to coming to your room in the middle of the night?” he snarled, immediately defensive.

Her eyes darted to the clock on the bedside table. It was two thirty in the morning. “I didn’t realize it was so late, I was trying to find an angle for the interviews. I think we should go with cute for Tilly and boy-next-door for Alec. Not that it is of any interest to you, of course. What can I do for you?”

She unfolded her legs and climbed off the bed, gathering her notes with quick and efficient gestures. The dress was riding higher on her thighs than it ought and he could guess the frilly edge of a garter. He turned his head away.

“We’re still friends or what?” he mumbled.

It wasn’t what he had been planning on asking and it came out sounding much more insecure than he was comfortable with. Truth was, people always thought Haymitch was the most confident of the two brothers but he wasn’t sure how true it was.

She paused briefly before sitting in front of her dresser. “I don’t know. Do you have a ten-foot pole so we can see if it’s doable to remain friends at that particular distance?”

_I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole._

Sometimes he said the most stupid things. She should know better than to listen.

“Not what I meant.” he muttered.

“My apologies, what was that?” she asked sweetly, almost distractedly. She was pulling pin after pin out of her orange wig and watching her reflection in the mirror.

He wasn’t buying the detached act for one second.

“What do you want?” he sighed.

“Well, it’s really up to you but you should know it would be better if it were to begin with a ‘I am sorry, Effie’.” she deadpanned.

“Trinket…” he growled.

“There should be a _Miss_ before Trinket, you know.” she replied, unclipping the heavy looking necklace from around her neck before going back to unpinning the wig. “If you can’t use my first name, at least address me properly.”

She was annoying.

She was annoying and it shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was.

“Lots of women love to be called Miss in a lot of different situations.” he spat, flopping on her bed. He sat at the edge and rested his forearms on his thighs so he could lean in. “It turns them on.”

Her eyes darted to him in the mirror, her jaw clenched. “I am not into that kind of things.”

“No.” he snorted. “You wouldn’t be, sweetheart.”

And all the better for it.

There was a lull in the conversation during which he was happy to watch her. How many pins were there on her head? It looked like a thousand to Haymitch.

“Why were you so mean to me?” she asked after a while.

“Why were you ignoring me?” he retorted.

Their eyes met in the mirror. The make-up wasn’t enough to hide how defeated she looked. “You know why. You must.”

He did.

She felt it too.

_The pull_.

Even now, even though he wasn’t sitting too close to her, there was a respectable distance between them, he felt as if her body was calling to him. He wanted to grab her and draw her close to his chest. He wanted to hold her and never let go. He wanted to do things that were far less innocent than that too.

“I know Paleo is older and I know how it might look to you but he is a kind man and he wants to take care of me.” she continued. Her voice was flat and lacking her usual exuberance. “I think he would marry me if I let him. He’s an out, Haymitch. It might be selfish of me but he is kind, and he likes me, and he is a way out.”

Despair crept in her voice, her eyes were pleading.

He didn’t know if it was truly selfish or not.

Everyone wanted an out from the Games, even some of the escorts and the Gamemakers.

“It’s another kind of selling.” he pointed out.

“Perhaps.” she granted. “But everyone is happy this way.”

“Who’s everyone?” he snorted. He could name a few who wouldn’t be happy, his brother first of the list. If Trinket resigned, Hayden would find a way to blame Haymitch for it.

“Paleo, my mother…” Her voice trailed off and she let out a sigh.

“What about you?” he asked.

She averted her eyes and finally seemed to run out of pins. She slid her hands under her wig carefully and slipped it off. He was waiting for the blond mane of curls, he was greeted with glossy straight blue hair with the occasional purple strand.

“Paleo doesn’t like it curly.” she whispered as an explanation when she caught him staring. “And the color was just so plain… I had gotten lazy about my hair, Mother was right. It looks much better this way.”

It was her hair and she was allowed to do what the hell she wanted with it but it looked so _Capitol_ … The woman who was looking at him in the mirror, chewing on her bottom lip, with the slightly smudged make-up around the eyes… It didn’t match the memory of the woman in the red pajamas. They could have been two different persons.

He could see it all clearly already.

It started with blue hair dye but then she would be pulled back into the system. She would fill her day with social visits and shopping and her nights with partying. She would enjoy her life and she would forget. She would praise Snow and she would look down on the Districts. And, eventually, she would forget she had ever opened her eyes to the real world at all.  

Being ignorant was one thing.

Being ignorant by choice was completely another.

“Don’t go with cute for the girl.” he said, standing up. “Go with innocent.”

“Innocent?” she repeated.

“Yeah.” he paused at the door. “The Capitols love that. They like to taint it.”

He didn’t wait to know what she had to say about that. He fled to his own room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to call this chapter : the one where Chaff is SO done. Tell me what you think please! I enjoy all your comments!


	26. Chapter 26

“Alright !” Effie chirped as soon as they had piled in the elevator that would take them to the interviews floor.

She surveyed her team, giving them all a last glance to make sure nothing was amiss. Alec looked out of place in his suit and kept pulling on his bowtie. She slapped his hand away and fixed it, wishing the stylists had seen fit to accompany them for the last modifications. Tilly was delighted with her puffy light pink dress and couldn’t seem to stop running her hands over the flounces, Effie had told her three times already that she was going to crease it if she kept it up but the girl was nervous. Hayden looked dashing as expected – she had selected the suit and knotted the tie herself. Haymitch… Haymitch had put on the outfit she had selected with a minimum of complaining but had drawn the line at shaving. As had become the norm since the discussion they had a few days earlier, he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Everyone remembers what they ought to do?” She clasped her hands cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

“We smile, we wave at the crowd and we say everything exactly like we rehearsed.” Alec nodded.

“And if we forget, we let Caesar bring us back on track. He’s here to help.” Tilly recited.

“That’s right. You bet he is.” the boy smiled at her, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

Effie and Hayden grabbed his wrist at the same time before he could ruin her hairstyle. Alec took his hand back, looking sheepish.  

“You will both be just _dazzling_.” Effie swore just as the elevator chimed. “Now, remember. Eyes bright, chins up and smiles on. That goes for you too, Haymitch.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes and flashed her his trademark playboy smile, the one she knew to be extremely fake. They walked to their designated waiting area like a proper team ought to. She fussed over the children again to distract them from the surrounding activity. Escorts calling out last advices, victors coaching the kids, the staff running around…

After a few minutes, she had exhausted her stock of reminders and had to declare herself content with the job they had done.

“Do you want me to wait here with you?” she asked at last.

Tilly would probably have gladly accepted the offer but Alec took a look around, noticed that most of the tributes were alone and bravely shook his head. “We’re good.”

She had to trust they would be.

She laced her arm with Hayden’s and they made their way up front to the audience, Haymitch trailing in their wake. She had to nudge Hayden to remind him to smile, her own public mask slipping easily on her face. She glanced back but Haymitch was already playing his own public persona act, winking at girls and signing autographs when he was asked. She and Hayden had to pause too when some people asked them to sign a piece of paper or to take a picture.

They found their way to their seats quicker than Haymitch did. He remained stuck in a conversation with two women who Effie thought to be the wife and the daughter of one of President Snow’s close advisors.

An impromptu round of applause erupted when District One’s and District Two’s teams entered the auditorium. Hayden’s hands clenched into fists at the sight of Enobaria. Effie had no doubt he was imagining throttling her which would have been a shame because as loathe as she was to admit it, the victor looked beautiful in her bright red dress – until she started smiling, that was. The fang shaped teeth were over the top in her opinion.

“With all the staring you’re doing, people are going to start talking, Hayden.” she teased.

“Haymitch spent all winter lecturing me. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do something stupid like corner her again.” He rolled his eyes.

Fortunately, nobody was looking at them.

“Don’t do that in public, dear.” Effie chided him. “Happy smiles only.”

“Sorry.” he said, not sounding sorry at all. He flashed a bright smile that was so obviously fake she almost cringed. “Better?”

“Quite.” she lied, glancing around impatiently. She wondered how long it would take before the interviews were due to start. Alec and Tilly would start fretting. “Perhaps one of us should have stayed with the children.”

“They will be fine.” Hayden argued. “You got attached again.”

There was a soft touch of rebuke in his voice. She pursed her lips in annoyance. “Didn’t you?” He shrugged, conceding the point, and she decided a change of topic was in order. She looked around her shoulder. “ _Where_ is your brother?”

Haymitch had disappeared in the growing crowd, she couldn’t spot him.

“About that…” Hayden ventured. “What happened?”

“What do you mean? Nothing.” she replied quickly. “He apologized.” Or at least, she thought that was what he was trying to do when he came into her room. They were on speaking terms again even though it was more polite and cold than it had been even at the beginning of their acquaintance.

“ _Haymitch_ apologized?” Hayden’s gaze was disbelieving at best and she couldn’t blame him.

“Yes, well, you know your brother. He didn’t actually spell it out.” she explained.

“And that’s it?” he insisted. “Because he looks… weird.”

“Weird.” she repeated with a frown.

Hayden remained silent for a second, studying her attentively, then he shrugged and spit it out. “Sad, he looks sad.”

“Oh…” she breathed out. “Does he? I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, maybe because you’re busy looking sad too every time you think nobody’s watching you.” he pointed out gently. “Are you sure nothing happened? Look, Effie, I can’t say I would be thrilled but I wouldn’t give _you_ hell over it. I’m sure if anything _did_ happen, it was Haymitch’s fault anyway.”

“Nothing happened.” It was the whole truth. Nothing _at all_ had happened. Her fake smile faltered slightly. “I think I disappointed him.”

“Disappointed how?” Hayden frowned. “You turned him down? ‘Cause…”

“No.” she cut him off. “No, it’s not…” She sighed. “It’s a long story, Hayden.”

“We’re not going anywhere for a while.” he joked but it fell flat and she remained silent. He kept on watching her, his frown deepening. “Just tell me… Did he do something?”

“You should stop assuming the worst of your brother.” she hissed. She knew Hayden didn’t know better. _She_ _knew_. And to be fair, Haymitch didn’t make it easy for them to be on friendly terms but, knowing all she did, she couldn’t bear the instinctive mistrust Hayden showed. If only _he_ knew… “It was something _I_ did if you must know. I know you aren’t particularly happy, Hayden, but you should stop pointing fingers at Haymitch so quickly. You aren’t a child anymore to blame your brother every time something goes wrong in your life not matter how tempting and easy it might be.”

She felt better for getting that off her chest. Haymitch and Hayden’s relationship was a tangled mess and she had no wish to tackle it, in her opinion there were wrongs on both sides. Perhaps Hayden was a bit quick to judge Haymitch but he had no reason at all to doubt that Haymitch’s careless attitude wasn’t sincere. As for Haymitch, he might be sacrificing everything to protect Hayden but he didn’t even realize he was suffocating him in the process.

“Talking about me? Why am I not surprised?” Haymitch snorted, dropping on the seat next to her.

Both she and Hayden startled guiltily. She didn’t know how much he had heard but clearly, some part of her speech hadn’t gone unnoticed because he was smirking at her with unabashed amusement.

Panem anthem finally boomed out of the speakers, calling the audience to pay attention to the stage.

“I don’t need a knight in shining heels, Princess.” he whispered in her ear just as Caesar appeared triggering the roar of the crowd. “Let him think I’m the bogeyman if that helps him.”

“That’s unfair.” she whispered back, turning her head to look at him.

She was barely aware of District One’s female tribute coming on stage under thundering applause.

“Life’s unfair.” he half-shrugged. His eyes darted to her lips and then he turned away again, pretending to be absorbed by what One’s tribute was saying.

Effie forced herself to focus. A few tributes stood out. The Careers, of course, the boy from Six and the girls from Nine and Eleven.

She clapped enthusiastically when Tilly was called on stage but the audience’s welcome was mild at best. People were bored and were checking their watches. Effie clutched Hayden’s hand during the girl’s performance, mouthing the words at the same time as her. She had made her rehearse again and again. Haymitch had been right. Innocent was the right approach for her.

Alec’s interview went even better. He was at ease with Caesar or was very good at pretending. She didn’t know if the audience was truly attentive but several people wished her good luck on their way out and she considered that to be a good thing.

“I’m going out.” Haymitch announced as she and Hayden were about to go backstage to fetch their tributes.

“Where are you going?” Hayden frowned.

“’Got a hot date.” he winked at his brother but Effie saw straight through the playful attitude. “Don’t wait up. Tell the kids to stay away from the Cornucopia.”

Alec and Tilly were anxious to know what they thought about the interviews and both Effie and Hayden assured them with unrestrained enthusiasm that they had been simply _fantastic_.

She ushered the children to bed as soon as they were back in the penthouse. Saying goodbye was difficult this year, just as much as it had been the first time. Heather and Gaius hadn’t cared much for her or Hayden the previous season and so the parting had been short and uneventful. But when Alec hugged her tight, quickly followed by Tilly… Effie had to clench her jaw and the smile stuck on her lips was so painful it actually _hurt_.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night and she didn’t feel like lying awake for hours. Hayden, on the other hand, looked exhausted and it didn’t take long before he excused himself to go to bed.

He paused on the living-room threshold though. “What I said earlier… about Haymitch… I don’t blame him for _everything_. But he’s done a lot, Effie. He sleeps with our escorts and then he kicks them out. If he finds out I like a girl, you can be _damn_ _bloody_ sure he will sleep with her. He doesn’t care _at all_ that Mama is cringing in front of her TV every time he struts around town with a new woman on his arm… He hurts people. I’m not saying he does it on purpose but most of the time, he just doesn’t care. I don’t want him to hurt you, that’s all.”

She had nothing to answer to that. What could she say? That it was all lies? That he slept with their escorts as some kind of payment to ensure their silence? That he slept with girls Hayden fancied to spare him… What? – she wasn’t sure of that last one and she really didn’t want to ask, Haymitch was almost irrational with his needs to protect his brother from everything. What else could she have said? That it wasn’t that he didn’t care about his mother’s opinion but that he didn’t have a choice in the matter? That he cared? That he cared so much more than Hayden could begin to process? As for hurting her… She thought she had been the one doing the hurting this time around.

She didn’t feel like staying cooked up in the penthouse so she headed out. Her feet naturally took her to Paleo’s house and the party still raging inside. Her friends welcomed her with surprised but delighted squeals and pulled her on the dance floor before she could even take off her coat. She lost herself in the music and the alcohol and the easy laughter for a moment.

That could be her life again, she mused.

She could choose Paleo and go back to an existence of mindless pleasure, not troubled by the persistent awareness that the whole country laid on unfair foundations. She could, like all those people who were wasted or high or simply looking for a hook up for the night, barely keep an eye on the interviews when they show up on TV. She could not care at all about those children who were paraded around, dressed up like dolls, right before being shipped to an arena they would never come back from. She could.

Yet, it was when Paleo’s sister told her it was a shame Twelve never got good tributes that she knew she couldn’t. Her tributes _were_ good. They were just _children_. And maybe the other tributes were children too but the odds weren’t fair and everybody in the Games department knew it. Who would they have, those children, if she quitted? Someone like Livia if they were lucky and if they weren’t, they would get another Viola. Someone who was more concerned with getting their face on the _Capitol Fabulous_ _Magazine_ than taking care of them. They deserved better. They deserved someone who would fight for them, fight to find them sponsors, to the last possible moment.

She never parted with her smile when she explained to Paleo that she didn’t wish to pursue their relationship further. She never stopped smiling even when he asked her to reconsider, to, at least, explain… She gathered everything she had left at his house and ran away as quickly as her heels would take her.

She didn’t cry in the cab that took her back to the Training Center. She didn’t cry in the lobby when she avoided the Peacekeeper’s curious stare at seeing her coming back with a box of random items in her arms. She didn’t cry in the elevator when she watched the numbers go up. She didn’t even cry once she was back in the living-room, feeling empty and sad for all the wrong reasons. She dropped the box in her room but the bed looked cold and unappealing so she wandered away.

She paused in front Haymitch’s room. How could she not? But it was a terrible idea, all the more so considering he probably had a _special appointment_ earlier, and she knew better than that. It was natural to go on to Hayden’s, natural to go in without knocking and natural to discard her shoes next to the bed before climbing in.

He jerked awake when she placed a hand on his side and rolled around to look at her. “Effie?”

_Then_ , her body apparently thought, was a perfect time to start crying.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, immediately drawing her against him. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

She heard him feel around for the alarm clock and she felt his shoulders sag when he realized just how early it was – it had been around four when she had left Paleo’s house so it couldn’t be much later – but then he held her tighter, rocking her gently and shushing her when her sobs got too loud. He asked several times what had happened but she could only mumble in answer, clutching his tee-shirt and burying her face in his neck. Her mother would have been appalled if she had seen her: not only had she climbed into a man’s bed uninvited in the middle of the night but she was very much making a show of herself. Still, she trusted Hayden with everything she had and there was nothing untoward in his hug anyway. With any other man, she would have been wary of doing it but not Hayden. Hayden was a very good friend, close enough he could have been family.

“I broke up with Paleo.” she sniffed at last, when she had no more tears to cry.

They had slid back down the bed at that point so she was snuggled against his side, her head on his shoulder. His tee-shirt was damp under her cheek and stained with traces from her make-up, her wig was probably crumpled beyond repair but he kept his arms around her anyway.

“Do I need to punch him?” Hayden asked, very seriously. “He’s not Enobaria, I can probably take him.”

A broken laugh escaped her at that joke. She wondered if that was what it felt like to have a brother, someone who would be ready to defend her no matter what for no other reason than the fact he loved her in a platonic way.

“I told Haymitch I wanted to quit. That’s why he was disappointed.” she confessed at last.

Hayden processed that in silence for a while. “Did Paleo ask you to quit?”

She closed her eyes, tired of everything. “Not yet but he would have eventually.”

“And…” he hesitated. “Did _you_ want to quit?”

Yes and no. That question was so complicated she didn’t even know how to begin answering it so she went straight to the point. “You need me. You and Haymitch. You need me.”

“Yes, we do.” Hayden admitted. “But you shouldn’t have to give up everything for us.”

“I didn’t love him.” she said. “He was very kind. He said I was beautiful.”

“You _are_ beautiful.” he chided her.

“I know but… I like to hear it sometimes.” she sighed. “May I sleep here? I don’t want to be alone.” Her own request sounded strange to her ears. “Is that too much to ask? I don’t want it to be weird or…”

“You can sleep here. You’re already halfway there anyway.” Hayden snorted.

It was an odd comment but he must have been on to something because she could feel her body getting heavier and heavier by the second.

“And it won’t be awkward, will it?” she insisted, burrowing more into his side, seeking his warmth.

“Effie, I love you but I really _don’t_ fancy you anymore.” he swore and she believed him. “You’re much too chatty.”

He had his quirks too, she wanted to reply but she was drifting off.

“I wish I had a brother like you.” she mumbled.

“Tell that to Haymitch.” he sighed. “Come on, stop fighting and go to sleep now.”

“Tomorrow will be a big, big, big day.” she whispered.

She didn’t know how right she was.

For one thing, the wake-up call was a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess at the wake-up call? ;) Let me know what you think!


	27. Chapter 27

Haymitch was never awake before his brother on launching day – never mind _Trinket_ who was always so uptight about her schedules she might as well tattoo them on her body – still, as he studied the untouched plates of pastries and the barely smoking pot of coffee, he realized, that year, not only was he awake _before_ his brother and his escort, they were actually _late_.

“They’re not up yet?” he asked the Avox, just to be sure.

The man shook his head and Haymitch smirked. He had _very few_ opportunities to wake up his brother like Hayden enjoyed _so much_ to do it when he could. He sauntered to Hayden’s room with unchecked glee, planning on barging in, opening the curtains wide so the sun would assault his eyes and then pulling the covers away, maybe there would even be a glass of water to drop on him – Hayden had an habit of keeping water on his nightstand ever since his Games. It might have been childish but you had to take your amusement where you could find it.

The _barging in_ and _rushing to open the curtains_ parts of the plan went without a glitch. It was when he turned to get a grip on the covers that he froze.

 _Everyone_ froze, really.  

Hayden had jerked awake at some point and was staring at him with wide eyes. The deer-caught-in-headlights expression would have almost been comical if it weren’t for the woman slowly waking up next to him. Haymitch was the first thing Trinket’s sleepy blue eyes fell on. She sat up suddenly, looking from Hayden to Haymitch with an obvious growing panic. He barely registered the blue hair spilling from her pink wig, the smudged make-up and the crumpled dress.

“If you want to get down for the launch, you better get up.” he heard himself say, his voice completely devoid of any emotion.

Not that he wasn’t experiencing a curious range of emotions at the moment. Betrayal was a key feature.

“Haymitch…” she finally breathed out. “Haymitch, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Sure, it’s not.” he snorted. “Hayden’s a big boy. I don’t care.”

He walked out of that room so fast his head almost started spinning.

“Haymitch!” she called out after him.

He heard the shuffling of sheets being pushed aside but if she truly intended to follow him, she didn’t go far.

“I will take care of him.” Hayden offered in rushed whisper. “Don’t worry. Go get ready. We’re going to be late.”

Clearly, between being late and explaining her recurrent lies about what she felt for his brother – or _him_ for that matter, or was she just playing on both sides? It wouldn’t have surprised him from a Capitol – Trinket was more concerned with being late because it was Hayden’s footsteps that shadowed him to the dining-room.

Haymitch acted on autopilot as he filled a plate with what his brother liked to eat for breakfast and dropped it in front of the chair Hayden usually used. His brother sat almost warily, still in his sweatpants and tee-shirt.

“Haymitch…” Hayden started cautiously.

“Drink your juice, baby brother. You need the vitamins.” Haymitch instructed, pouring him a glass of orange juice. He used to always make sure Hayden ate his breakfast. Looking after Hayden had always been his first duty for as long as he could remember. Hayden had still been a baby when their crappy excuse for a father had packed his bags and left them, _Haymitch_ had still been a baby at that time, no bigger than six probably.

Hayden came first.

It wasn’t something his mother had asked of him, ever. She had asked him to help, of course, she had left him in charge of his brother more than once but she had never asked him to give up half his meal so his brother wouldn’t go to bed hungry or to risk a whipping by wandering beyond the fence because they needed some meat. She had ranted and rebuked him every time but he still kept on doing it and every time she would chide him and kiss him on the head and say just how proud she was despite his folly. He knew he had made her proud at that time – and sad that she couldn’t take better care of them but that wasn’t her fault – and he _was_ proud too. He had always been proud of his baby brother. There was _nothing_ he wouldn’t do for him.

Those times he had given up half his meal when he had been so starved his stomach hurt were probably the most difficult. Still, he would do it again.

“Haymitch.” Hayden tried again, still somehow guarded.

His grey eyes were trained at his hand and Haymitch belatedly realized it was shaking and clutching the handle of the orange juice carafe a bit too tight. He placed it down and grabbed a muffin only to have something to do.

As for _what_ to do…

“How long?” he asked.

He needed facts. He needed to take decisions.

He couldn’t allow Hayden to fall into the Capitol’s trap. _Give in to one Capitol, you gave in to them all_. It was Trinket, however. She wasn’t like that. Clearly, he had read the whole thing wrong. Clearly…

“How long what?” Hayden frowned. “We just slept, Haymitch, that’s all. _Nothing_ happened. She told you, it’s not what it looks like.”

Haymitch licked his lips nervously, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He couldn’t let anything slip. He couldn’t drop the act.

“Come on…” he chuckled even though it was the last thing he felt like doing. It came out bitter and slightly angry. “I won’t steal this one, I promise. Just make sure to keep it quiet. We wouldn’t want her boyfriend to learn about it now, would we?”

That would be another mess he would have to clean up.

And he would take two Enobaria over the fallout of _that_ one.

But it could work, if Trinket was clever about it. If they managed to keep it out of Snow’s eyes. If _he_ managed to stop fantasizing about her and red shorts. If…

“They broke up last night.” Hayden said. “She was upset. We’re _friends_. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Haymitch sat down, watching his brother over the rim of his cup. “A girl like that climbs into your bed and you just _sleep_? I’m supposed to believe that?”

“You should.” his brother spat. “I’m not _you_. I don’t take advantage of upset women.”

That jab hurt more than it should have.

He didn’t think Hayden was lying though. She had still been dressed, wig and all. And his brother’s tee-shirt _was_ stained with what suspiciously looked like foundation powder and mascara.

“What’s it to you anyway?” Hayden asked. “You _froze_ out there.”

“Too bad for you.” Haymitch joked, ignoring his question. “I bet she’s a tiger in the sack.”

Hayden shook his head, clearly repelled. “You’re disgusting.”

“So I’ve been told.” he muttered. His stomach settled and he realized that it had been churning with something that felt a lot like jealousy. Of course, it didn’t last long. Hayden’s next words shattered his new found peace of mind.

“She told me everything last night.” his brother said.

Haymitch almost choked on his coffee. “Told you what?” It was too late to hide the betrayal and panic in his voice, too late to fashion a mask of indifference or even ignorance. “Hayden…”

“You should have told me.” Hayden snapped.

If he had been frozen before, now he was paralyzed. “I couldn’t. I was trying to… I can’t believe she told you. _Trinket_!”

He bolted to his feet, furious for so many reasons. He wasn’t prepared to have this conversation with his brother. He wasn’t prepared to explain his choices or…

“If _our_ escort tells you she plans on quitting, you tell _me_ , Haymitch.” Hayden retorted. “We’re a team here, no matter how often you forget.”

It took a few moments before the words managed to pierce the loud noise of blood rushing in his ears, then his heart rate started decreasing slowly to reach something akin to normal.

“She told you she wanted out.” he surmised. And nothing else. _Of_ _course_ , she hadn’t told him anything else. Hayden would have confronted him as soon as she had finished her tale if she had spilled the beans.

“She told me _you_ knew about it.” Hayden argued. “So why didn’t you tell me?”

“I believe someone _shouted_ for me?” Trinket’s voice interrupted them from the threshold. She was wearing a colored dress that was blinding to look at.

“A rainbow threw up on you or something?” Haymitch taunted.

She narrowed her eyes at him but glanced at Hayden. “You should go get ready or we _will_ miss the launch.”

Hayden didn’t look happy to see this conversation cut short but Haymitch couldn’t say he wasn’t relived. That morning was like a _damned_ rollercoaster.

Trinket was staring at him in an odd way.

“Did he explain?” she asked at last.

“He didn’t need to. He’s old enough to know what he’s doing and I trust you not to screw him up.” he said, walking in the direction of the door. He intended to slip past her and to the living-room where the liquor cart was – because, _yes_ , he felt like he needed a drink – but she placed a hand on his arm. It was barely a ghost of a touch, yet it stopped him. He didn’t know what that woman was doing to him. She had strange powers.

“It truly isn’t like that.” she insisted. “I’m not interested in Hayden and he isn’t interested in me.”

He felt as if they had that conversation a thousand times already.

“I don’t care who you _fuck_.” he spat. “Not my problem, sweetheart.”

It was probably more defensive than convincing because she wrinkled her nose. “Must you always be so crass?”

“Part of my charm.” he mumbled. “You didn’t tell him anything, right?”

He needed to be sure.

“No, of course not. It’s not my secret to tell.” she frowned. “I wouldn’t betray your trust.”

There was a small note of rebuke in her voice, like he should have known better. Worst thing was, he believed her. He _trusted_ her.

Truly, it was a shame she and his brother weren’t attracted to each other because he thought he could have trusted her with him. Although, on the other hand, it was probably for the best because… All the women Hayden had gotten a bit too much involved with and who would have either hurt him or put him in danger and whom he had seduced to convince his brother to step away… He hadn’t liked a single one of them. He didn’t feel guilty about sleeping with them no matter how much Hayden resented him for it. He had done it to protect Hayden and that justified everything in his book, but Trinket… he would have seduced Trinket for all the wrong reasons.

“You _really_ look like a rainbow threw up on you, you know, sweetheart.” he snorted.

“Pity, it didn’t reach you, then.” she shot back with a huff. “You could use more colors. It might put a smile on your face.”

“I smile all the time.” he argued, flashing her one of his charmer grin.

Most girls swooned or batted their fake eyelashes at him. Not her, of course. She had been difficult from the start.

“A real one.” she sighed.

“Tell you what, one day, I will let you put a real smile on my face, sweetheart.” he winked. “Until then, go and try to save the kids.”

Her mood immediately darkened. “You should come and help.”

“I don’t deal with hopeless causes.” he retorted, leaving her to ponder his words.

He settled on the couch with a glass like he always did for the launching. He could easily imagine the reaction in the Games Headquarters when the arena was unveiled. Chaff had been right, they were making it special this year.

The arena was a tundra : miles and miles of deep snow, glaciers, crevasses and a frozen lake.

He wasn’t so sure it was a good thing when Alec grabbed Tilly and ran in the opposite direction of the Cornucopia as quickly as he could. Yes, they were alive and the standard thermal outfit the tributes had been given that year would protect them.

But for how long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward waking-up is awkward! Let me know what you think!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the moment where I remind you of the warning in the first author note. While nothing graphic is described, the prostitution of victors plays a major role in this story.

Effie tapped her bare foot against the elevator floor, wishing it would go faster.

Time she was wasting was time she couldn’t spend trying to convince sponsors. Still, she couldn’t very well try to convince sponsors with only one shoe. She spared another glare for the high heels dangling from her fingers and, more specifically, to the broken one. She would have toppled over if Hayden hadn’t caught her. He had told her she should take advantage of going up to the penthouse to get some rest but Effie couldn’t bear the thought.

The Games had started two days earlier and already they were down to thirteen tributes, mainly all coming from outer Districts. It was very rare for almost all the Careers to be gone that early in the Games but none remained except for the girl from One and the eighteen-years old was currently slowly succumbing to hypothermia in an ice cave. The cold was the tributes’ worst enemy that year. The cold… and the mutts.

The Careers pack had been decimated by a Mutt that looked like a polar bear with gigantic claws and oversized fangs. The animal was still lurking somewhere in the arena – she and Hayden had nicknamed it Enobaria – but luckily for Alec and Tilly, it was nowhere near Twelve’s tributes. It didn’t mean they were out of the woods, though. The particular design of the arena made it difficult to find food and their shelter hadn’t lasted longer than a night. Water was easy to come by with all that snow but the cold was sharp and Tilly was getting weak. Alec was keeping her moving, forcing her to walk against the icy wind in hope of finding a place to spend the night… If they stopped moving, they would die, Hayden had said, and he hadn’t sounded very hopeful at the time. Effie had refused to hear it, she had thrown herself in the sponsors hunt with renewed energy. She hadn’t slept one wink since the start of the Games, stalking party after party in hope of finding someone, _anyone_ who would give them money…

It wasn’t working out yet.

With the Careers out of the picture, the bets were leaning towards the ingenious girl from Nine who had built herself some sort of igloo and the two tributes from Seven who were clearly used to low temperatures and knew how to prevent themselves from dying.

“Come on…” she muttered under her breath. It was useless of course, it didn’t make the elevator go any faster

Of course, she mused, when it finally reached the penthouse and she stepped out only to find herself face to face with a very peculiar man with bright fuchsia hair and a blue and silver tattoo of a fish on the cheek. Screaming for help occurred to her but the man didn’t look dangerous. He was disheveled, his shirt untucked and his jacket tossed over his shoulder, his eyes were unfocused. In truth he looked… _stoned_.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone sharp and firm.

The man barely bat an eyelash, he stumbled into the elevator, muttering something about a business appointment.

Effie’s blood ran cold.

Once she was sure the man was gone, she dropped her broken shoes and rushed to Haymitch’s room, barely pausing to consider just how unwelcome her presence would be. She would have expected yells and a lot of snapping and grumbling.

He wasn’t in any state to yell.

The room was a mess, just as it always was. Haymitch was lying in crumpled sheets, on his stomach, naked at least from the waist up, an arm dangling from the bed, the other clutching a little plastic bag. It was the plastic bag and the lack of reaction that made her run inside, not caring at all about how much he would be angry with her later.

“What did you do?” she asked, kneeling next to the bed. She placed her hand on his cheek briefly and then snatched the small plastic back away from his hand. It was full of star shaped pills.

“’Not supposed to be here.” he slurred, rolling on his back.

She glared. “Oh, I _do_ apologize for spoiling your drug recreation, Haymitch.”

She tossed the bag on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed – she definitely did _not_ let herself think just how filthy the bedding probably was – clasping his chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. He batted at her fingers and tried to struggle against her grip but his aim was off. His grey eyes were glassy and he didn’t seem to be able to properly focus on her. She forced him to turn on his back.

“How many did you take?” she hissed. She knew those pills. It was the latest fashionable drug on the market. It lulled you into a peaceful state of mind and, in some cases, triggered a hallucinogenic trip – that was when your body didn’t shut down because the pills contained a certain dose of arsenic that some drug dealers didn’t bother to check. “These could kill you!”

If he picked up the trace of panic in her voice, it didn’t disturb him. “Yeah? How fast?” He sounded mildly curious, almost hopeful.

She didn’t know which one of them was the most surprised by the slap.

It sent his head rolling on the side and the reddish imprint of her hand was clearly visible on his tanned skin, her palm was left tingling. He blinked several times and stared at her with a mild-reproachful and mild-stunned look.

“Don’t you dare think about it.” she hissed. “There are children dying right at this minute. Don’t you think they would want to be in _your_ place? Don’t you _dare_ say something like that again.”

“Whose fault is it if they’re dying? _You’re_ the Capitol. Not me.” he grumbled, still blinking. “You _hit_ me.” He tried to touch his cheek with his fingers, clearly disbelieving, but all he managed to do was slap himself again. He frowned and pouted at her as if it was her fault. “You’re mean. I don’t like you.”

“No? Too bad. Be thankful it’s me and not your brother.” she spat. “ _Drugs_ , Haymitch. He would kill you if he knew. God, _I_ could kill you right now.” And he had dared lecture her about sleeping pills and possible addictions… “What about your mother? What would _she_ say if she knew I wonder?”

“She would be disappointed.” he snorted as if it was the funniest thing on earth. “And Hayden would shake his head and take his pained face to let me know just how _embarrassing_ I am. See? The usual.” He snickered and then laughed.

She pursed her lips, annoyed with herself for feeling sorry for him. Alcohol was one thing, drugs were another completely. No matter how bad he felt.

“How many?” she repeated. “And how long have you been taking them?”

There was a doctor in the Games compound at all time of day in case of emergencies. She could always call them… However, the Games clinic wasn’t renowned for its discretion and if _this_ hit the papers… Not only would it hurt Twelve’s reputation, she couldn’t quite bear the thought of Iris Abernathy finding out like that.

Haymitch’s eyes were closing and she shook him abruptly, not feeling guilty one bit about the marks her nails left on his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep. Talk to me. How long have you been doing drugs?”

“I’m not. Vemlis gave them to me.” he mumbled, rolling on his side, showing her his back, in what was probably a way to tell her to leave him alone. “A gift, he said.” That was followed by another snicker but that one sounded bitter, as if even the drugs couldn’t take the edge of it.

Bile rose in her throat at the implications but she forced herself to stay focused on the main problem. “How many pills did you take?”

“Can’t a man get high in peace?” he whined without much fight. “Go away.”

“Haymitch, I swear if you don’t tell me _right now_ how many pills you took, I will call Hayden up and let him deal with you.” she threatened.

He rolled on his back again to look at her. “No.” He reached out and tugged on her puffy sleeve. “You look like a balloon. A huge pink balloon…”

“ _Focus_. How many pills?” she gritted through her teeth.

“One. One and a half…” His face crumpled in reflection but then he shrugged. “’Don’t remember.”

Effie sighed. She studied him, biting her bottom lip. He did look high but he wasn’t _too_ incoherent. She could let him sleep it off but she didn’t want to do that, she didn’t want to risk it. What if she let him there and went back to sponsors hunting only to find him dead when she came back to the penthouse? No. No… It wouldn’t do.

“Are you wearing anything under that sheet?” she asked, staring dubiously at the covers pooling around his waist.

“That guy paid to have me in bed. What do you think?” he sneered.

She thought she had never had so many murdering urges than since she had started working as an escort.

“Wonderful.” she chirped very sarcastically. “Well… I will be the gentleman you never are and I won’t peek. Get up.”

“No way.” He shook his head. “Just leave me _alone_.”

She didn’t even bother answering that. She grabbed his arm and pulled until she managed to get him out of bed. He stopped struggling after a while and seemed to understand it would be less painful and exhausting to just humor her. She kept her eyes averted like she had promised but it didn’t mean she didn’t see everything there was to see. As much as she was trying not to look, it was difficult to help a man into the next room and not… look at him. She dropped him in the shower with blatant relief and opened the cold tap without a second thought.

He flinched and hissed when the icy stream of water hit him but remained slumped on himself.

“Get up.” she ordered, tugging on his arm again. “I need you to wake up, Haymitch.”

She needed to counteract the drug’s effects before it could fully knock him out.

“’Don’t wanna wake up.” he complained, huddling on himself to fight the cold.

He shrugged her hands off easily and Effie cursed in the privacy of her own mind. _Of course_ , he would make it difficult. The sound of the zipper caught his attention and he looked up with chattering teeth, startled. Effie stepped out of her dress, grateful for the corset and the panties that preserved most of her dignity, and hang it carefully behind the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes tracking her every move. They widened when she stepped inside the shower, not bothering to hide her shivers when the water hammered on her skin. It was cold. Before ten seconds had passed, her wig was drenched and felt heavy on her head. She should have remembered to take it off but the wig was less expensive than the dress so it hadn’t been a priority. She grabbed his arm and hauled him up again, careful not to slip on the wet tiles. This time he stood up without much of a fight.

“You will get cold.” he said.

She was _already_ cold. She was shuddering, her teeth were chattering and she was losing feelings in her toes but still she placed a hand on his side just in case she would need to prevent a fall and didn’t let go of his arm.

“Is your head clearer?” she asked. She didn’t think she could take the icy shower for long. She gave him five minutes before she called someone else for help. Perhaps she could call his friend Chaff instead of Hayden, perhaps he would come and they could keep this little stunt from his brother. She couldn’t bear to imagine just _how_ disappointed Hayden would be, it would hurt him.

“I’m high, of course, my head is clearer.” he grumbled.

It wasn’t the answer she was looking for but he looked less stoned. For one, he wasn’t looking at her like she was a _huge pink balloon_ – and on retrospect she really should have disputed the _huge_ part of that statement. Still he was very much _staring_ and she was very conscious of wearing next to nothing when _he_ was wearing _nothing at all_.

“Your lipstick is blue or that’s the cold?” he mumbled a few minutes later.

“C…Cold.” she stuttered.

He was shivering too and she couldn’t help but keep her eyes riveted on his chest – to her defense, it was at eyes level – because the muscles kept twitching with each new shiver. She squealed when he pulled her in his arms, aware that he was naked and she could _feel_ _him_ and it was crossing every lines and then some. He fumbled with the panel behind her and the water became blissfully warm. It smelt like lemon which wasn’t her favorite setting but it would do she supposed. He didn’t let go of her and she really should have stepped back but she didn’t. She was cold and he was warm, and she didn’t think the odd hug was completely for her benefit. If anything, he was clinging to her.

“This is totally inappropriate.” she murmured to herself.

He chuckled and she felt the low rumble echoing against her breasts where they were flushed against his chest. “Two days ago I found you in my brother’s bed.”

“Two completely different situations.” she huffed.

“Why?” he asked, curious.

“Well, Hayden wasn’t naked for starters.” she pointed out. “And I was dressed. There wasn’t any water involved. He’s very brotherly with me. Did I mention he wasn’t naked?”

“I don’t want to be brotherly with you.” he mumbled, holding her tighter.

This was becoming awkwardly clear. The cold water had done a good job of keeping that out of the realm of possibilities but the bathroom was starting to get steamy and she was a bit too aware of being pressed against naked flesh. And, no doubt, so was he.

“You’re high.” she accused.

“As a kite.” he snorted.

“If I ever catch you doing drugs again, I’m telling Hayden _everything_.” she said very plainly. “You can make that another term in our arrangement with not getting drunk in public.”

“I won’t get high in public.” he nodded.

She slapped his shoulder, hard. “You won’t get high _at all._ I am serious, Haymitch. And no more alcohol for you until you get back to Twelve.”

He let out a curious sound and it took her a few seconds to realize he was laughing.

“Am I grounded?” he teased.

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, feeling tired. So, _so_ tired. “Do I need to call your mother and make it official?”

He nipped at the soft skin between her neck and her shoulder with his teeth in a gentle rebuke. She should have protested, she really should have. “You’re no fun.”

The pout was audible and it made an hysterical laugh bubble in her throat. “Excuse me if I do not find the prospect of finding you dead in a puddle of your own sick or blood to be fun.”

His hand was roaming her back, exploring the hard fabric of her corset with growing frustration, when it started wandering lower she knew it was time to put a stop to the shower. It was what she intended to do : reach for the control panel, cut off the water and make sure he was coherent again to get dressed on his own – and above all pretend she couldn’t feel him getting harder against her stomach. It was why what came out of her mouth next was a surprise even to herself. She didn’t know she needed to ask before it was already in the open.

“Do you like men?” she blurted out.

His whole body stiffened and not in a pleasant way.

The next second, she was pinned against the tiled wall of the shower. One of his hand was groping her, forcing her leg up – and she didn’t know what possessed her to wrap it around his waist, it was instinctive – and the other was on her side, keeping her pushed against the wall. Their bodies were pressed together in the most _perfect_ way and instead of the shriek she would have expected from herself at the rough treatment, all that passed her lips was a whimper. He lowered his mouth on her neck, lapping at the water that was still streaming from above, and she moaned. _She moaned_ – without restrain or a single thought for what he would think of her to act so wanton when he hadn’t even touched her properly yet.

“I like _women_.” he growled against her skin. His mouth moved up her throat, leaving a hot trail in its wake. He wasn’t kissing or nibbling or anything he was just… _brushing_ his lips and it would kill her before long. “I like the curves.” The hand that was groping her squeezed almost painfully. “I like the sounds they make.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and she gasped. She closed her eyes, panting heavily against the onslaught of sensations, it wasn’t just what he was doing with his tongue, he was very hard now.

He stopped torturing her earlobe to capture her lips but she turned her head away, grasping at the last straws of her sanity.

“Stop it.” she whispered. “Haymitch… Stop.”

It was now or never. She knew it.

His hand left her ass to run on her thigh, he repositioned her leg and there was just enough friction that she gasped again, letting her head fall back against the wall. The wig cushioned the blow, which was probably a good thing because she didn’t know how she would have explained a concussion.

“Please, stop.” she murmured.

“You want it.” It almost sounded like a plea. “I know you do.”

“You’re high and upset and angry.” she answered and the calm enumeration helped her clear her mind. He wasn’t completely himself and she would be a despicable being if she let him take this any further.

“I’m not so high anymore.” he protested, letting go of her leg.

“You are still upset and angry.” she argued, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back gently. She needed the distance, she needed it _badly_. “I won’t take advantage.”

He didn’t take it very well. She could see the annoyance and the shame flashing in his eyes.

“I don’t mean it like that.” she sighed “You know I don’t. I don’t feel superior to you. Well, except in the fashion department of course. And the proper rules of conduct. You are rubbish at those. I’ve never met a ruder man in my entire life but…”

She fell silent when he tugged on her wig. It was so soaked that even the pins weren’t doing a good job at keeping it in place. It splotched on the floor and she was left staring at the mess of pink synthetic hair. He coiled a blue strand of her real hair around his finger thoughtfully.

“I hate it.” he said. “Don’t let them change you, sweetheart.”

She cleared her throat, still a little too aware of how naked and aroused he was and how exposed she felt. She fell back on her escort persona because it was the safest bet. “Get dressed. You’re going downstairs with me, I want to keep an eye on you in case those pills have unpleasant effects.”

She escaped the shower with something akin to relief, grabbed her wig and her dress and finally realized he was still standing under the hot water.

He didn’t meet her eyes but gestured awkwardly to his groin. “Give me five minutes. And you better get dressed, sweetheart, ‘cause I won’t stop myself twice.”

He was still a little high, she decided.

She had never fled a room so fast in her life. Getting dressed again was a hassle. She had to redo everything from her hair to her make-up and it took so long she was terrified of what she would see when she finally reached the living-room. Haymitch was sitting on the couch, dressed, sipping from a bottle of water. At least, it gave her an excuse not to act _too_ awkward.

“This _better_ be water, Haymitch.” she warned.

He looked miserable but he shrugged and nodded at the TV screen. “The girl’s dead, Effie.”

_Tilly_.

Even though she had known from the start the girl’s chances were small, it still hurt.

“You never call me Effie.” she commented absentmindedly, swallowing back the pain and the sorrow. It wouldn’t help Alec and Alec, at least, might have a chance yet.

“There are circumstances.” he shrugged.

_Like taking a shower together and almost having sex?_ she wanted to ask. Or was it more about losing a tribute?

She didn’t let herself ponder either question. She dragged him downstairs to hunt for sponsors, refusing to feel or act awkward, and waving away Hayden’s surprised interrogations at seeing his brother. Haymitch was in no state to talk to sponsors, he was barely managing to pretend being clear-headed, so she had him filling the paperwork for Tilly’s death instead, while she and Hayden exhausted themselves trying to find someone who would help.

Tilly had died from exposure and it seemed she had taken Alec’s motivations to fight with her.

When the boy finally stopped walking and dropped to his knees before lying down in the snow, neither Hayden nor Haymitch looked surprised. Alec simply gave up.

It was judged the worst death of the year.

_Coward_ , most people called him.

Effie thought he was brave.

Braver than any Capitol citizen.

Braver than _she_ was in any case.

Hayden left the next day.

She avoided Haymitch until he took the train back to Twelve after the crowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line to let me know what you think!


	29. Chapter 29

 

_The arena was a maze and Haymitch was lost._

_He ran as fast as he could, knowing_ something _was after him. He didn’t know what it was, each time he glanced over his shoulder, there was only darkness yet he knew it was_ there _, hunting him. He ran and ran, following the twisting path until he finally reached a cliff._

_It came out of nowhere. One second the path ahead was clear, the next he almost plummeted to his death as his feet skidded to a stop on the stony ground. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he was sure it would burst. He spun on himself, looking for a way out and knowing there was none._

_The howl of pain made his blood go cold._

_He started running again in the direction of the screaming, knowing where to go, knowing what he would find. The birds were already there when he reached the base of the slope, pink and bright and strangely beautiful like everything else in that_ fucking _place. Beauty meant death._

_He charged at them, waving his arms and yelling at the top of his lungs to chase them away. They were gone by the time he dropped to his knees next to Maysilee’s body. Except it wasn’t Maysilee’s empty eyes that looked back at him but Mabel’s, milky from death and oddly dull when they were so bright in life. The wound didn’t come for the birds but from the bullet in her head and from the gun so heavy in his hand._

_“You killed her.”_

_Hayden was standing a few feet away, hands deep in his pockets, looking careless like he never did anymore._

_“No.” Haymitch protested. “No, it wasn’t me.”_

_“You killed her.” Hayden repeated._

_Haymitch looked down at Mabel but her face had changed again. It was Effie lying there, in a puddle of her own blood, her open blue eyes empty and unseeing. He dropped the knife he was holding and scrambled back._

_“No.”_

_“You will kill us all.” Hayden stated, matter-of-factly._

_“No!” he yelled back, hauling himself to his feet and starting running again. Away. Away from the corpses. Away from the people he would eventually get killed._ Away _._

_“Haymitch.” his brother insisted but Haymitch fled. “Haymitch. Haymitch.”_

“Haymitch!”

Haymitch jerked awake, gasping for breath, and reacted instinctively to an enemy trying to attack him. He swung his left elbow at his opponent’s face and tried to reverse their position, tried to get on top, but the man blocked his blow and held him down, pinning his arms and torso to the bed.

“ _Haymitch_.”

_It was Hayden_ , his mind supplied, _only Hayden_. He forced his body to relax, to stop fighting his brother. Everything felt clammy: his skin, the sheets… His stomach churned unpleasantly and he closed his eyes for a second, not sure he wouldn’t be sick.

“You’re okay?” Hayden asked.

“Yes.” he whispered and the dead weight was lifted from his chest. He sat up and buried his face in his shaking hands to chase away the last remnants of the nightmare.

“You were screaming _bloody_ murder.” his brother said. “Lucky we don’t have neighbors.”

“Sorry.” Haymitch mumbled.

“It was just a joke.” Hayden frowned, placing a hand on his arm.

Haymitch flinched but finally pried his hands away from his face. The room was dark except for the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table, the outline of the furniture familiar and comforting. He was in Twelve. He was safe. His breathing calmed down slightly. His eyes finally rested on her mother who was lurking near the door. It didn’t escape his notice than she only entered when Hayden nodded to signal it was alright to do so – and it was good, it was for the best, he had never been as terrified as the day he had woken up from a nightmare to find his knife buried in her shoulder and her blood all over him. Hayden had almost decked him that night and he would have been right to do so.

She didn’t need much more than the simple nod to rush inside, though. Hayden scrambled on the other side of Haymitch to leave her room and she sat at the edge of the bed before wrapping her arms around her oldest son. He gave in to her comforting embrace for a minute because it was _good_ to be the one being taken care of for once but he didn’t want to worry her so he quickly patted her back and broke the hug.

“I’m fine, Mama.” he lied.

His mother wasn’t fooled for one single second, she watched him with her lips pursed tight together, her grey eyes full of sadness. It was bordering too much on pity for Haymitch’s taste.

“I will make you some hot tea.” she declared. “It will soothe your nerves.”

It wasn’t tea he needed but a bottle of whiskey. Yet, there was no more alcohol in the house and barely half a bottle left in the hiding place next to the geese pen. It was hard to find lately and he was falling back on it only on very bad days.

“I’m _fine_.” he repeated a little more firmly. “Go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” she chided him. “What is a mother for if not to be woken up in the middle of the night by their children?” She clicked her tongue at him. “Are you sure you don’t want some tea? Or some of that cocoa you boys brought back? You’re fond of it, aren’t you?”

He let her fuss in that fashion for a while, slipping on a clean shirt on his clammy chest just to humor her fear he would catch his death, knowing she needed to make herself useful. She was at a loss too often when her boys were concerned, he guessed, she didn’t know how to help them and, as a mother, it must have been difficult. It took ten minutes before he finally convinced her to go back to her own room.

Meanwhile Hayden had made himself at home, sitting against his headboard and didn’t seem in any hurry to go.

“I’m fine.” Haymitch grumbled again, picking up the book he had been reading before falling asleep and placing it on the dresser.

“You’re not going to go back to sleep tonight.” Hayden pointed out with confidence. “I can keep you company for a while.”

“Oh, so we’re having a sleepover.” he snorted. “Fun.”

He flopped on the bed, lying down on his back, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He couldn’t quite shake off the vision of Mabel’s corpse out of his mind, worse, it kept shifting to Effie’s.

“Wanna play a game?” Hayden asked after a while.

Haymitch glanced up at him, unable to suppress the teasing smirk on his lips. “Yeah, see, you’re not my type, baby brother. Not to mention : _gross._ ”

Hayden rolled his eyes and hit him once with the pillow. “Shut _up_. You’re a pervert, Haymitch, that’s _all_ you ever think about.”

There was amusement in his voice though. The conversation didn’t feel strained for once so Haymitch allowed himself to relax. “What game?”

“I don’t know. Truth or dare.” Hayden shrugged.

“I’m still hurting from last time.” he chuckled.

It had been _years_ since they had played that game but the last time was memorable. Hayden had dared him to walk on the main beam in the Greywoods’ barn and he had dared his brother right back and, of course, it _couldn’t_ wait the next morning so they had found themselves sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to hike the long way to the Greywoods’ only to play tightrope walkers. Hayden had always had a better balance so he had been just fine but Haymitch had slipped and plummeted straight into a providential small stack of hay. It had broken his fall but it had still left huge bruises. He had been fifteen and Hayden ten. They had laughed all the way back home. _Happy_ _times_ , he mused.

“Only truth then.” Hayden insisted.

_That_ was a trap if Haymitch had ever seen one. “So you want to play twenty questions? What are we? Twelve?”

Hayden didn’t take the bait. “What was the nightmare about?”

“Brussels sprouts.” he deadpanned. “You know I hate Brussels sprouts.”

“What was the nightmare about, _really_?” his brother pressed.

Haymitch hesitated. He lied so much to Hayden… Every day and about almost everything. What was a small truth? He missed his brother. It was ridiculous, of course, since they spent almost all their time together but he _missed_ him. He missed the easiest times when Hayden told him all of his secrets. He missed doing stupid things like sneaking out in the middle of the night without their mother’s knowledge to do idiotic dares. He missed having someone he could trust to have his back no matter what – although he supposed Effie had his back now… but it was _different_.

“Dead people.” he said carefully.

“Your arena?” Hayden asked curiously. “I dream of my cave sometimes but… All I can remember is the fear really. You know when I was there I kept wishing…” His voice trailed off without him finishing.

“Kept wishing what?” Haymitch frowned.

He couldn’t remember wishing much during his own Games. Everything had been about surviving from the moment the old rag who passed as an escort when he was a kid had called out his name. When the gong had echoed in the arena itself and he had jumped from his platform, all he could think about was _surviving_.

_Stay alive_ , that was what he whispered to himself before closing his eyes for a brief moment of sleep, what he told himself when the blade of his knife sliced into human skin for the first time, what he repeated in his mind like a mantra after Maysilee had passed, what he muttered to himself as he stood on that cliff, holding his guts in his hands. _Stay alive_.

“I kept wishing you were there with me because I was terrified and I didn’t know what to do but you would have. I kept thinking _what would Haymitch do?_ ” Hayden sighed. “Go on, laugh away.”

Haymitch didn’t feel like laughing. “I _was_ there. Every step of the way.”

If he didn’t like revisiting his Games, Hayden’s were worse. Knowing it was _his_ fault if his brother had been reaped in the first place… Those weeks were the worst of his life.

The mood was quickly shifting from semi-playful to gloomy and Haymitch didn’t want to lose the thin connection to his brother just yet. He kept his eyes riveted on the ceiling.

“So you banged that cute redhead last year or what?” he asked.

He had never quite found out what had been going on between Hayden and the woman at the market.

“She’s married, it was just a fling and you told Mama. I can’t believe you told _Mama._ ” Hayden spat. “You know how long she lectured me?”

A _long_ time, a _very_ long time.

“And?” he chuckled because he was sure there was more to that story than their mother’s lecture.

“Maybe.” his brother grinned.

“That’s my boy.” he laughed.

°O°O°O°

“How many dates did you go to in the last few months, Effie?” Livia asked with a no-nonsense expression.

Effie purposely kept studying the selection of dresses in front of her, trying to ignore the eager sales assistants who were trailing the two escorts a few feet behind.

“Five.” she answered at last.

“And how many _second_ dates did you have since Paleo?” Livia insisted, taking out a blue dress and pressing it against her chest to get an idea of how it would fit her.

“It isn’t your color, dear.” Effie told her honestly. “And none.”

Livia made a face and put the dress down to the obvious disappointment of the sales assistants. Effie picked up a glimmering red one. She hardly ever wore red but perhaps for the reaping…

“What do you think?” she asked her friend.

“I think you need to find yourself a new boyfriend.” Livia argued, gesturing at one of the girls behind them so she would take the dress and add it to the pile of items they wanted to try on when they would be done exploring the store. “What about Seneca Crane? A little bird told me he’s sweet on you.”

Seneca had joined the Gamemakers around the time Effie had started working as an escort but he was quickly becoming more famous than any other junior Gamemakers. He was brilliant, charming and, according to every woman in the Capitol, handsome. It was rumored Seneca could very well become the youngest Head Gamemaker ever if he was still _that_ good when Head Gamemaker Torello finally retired.

“Seneca is a good friend.” she replied distractedly. “He might be having a little crush but I am not interested.”

“Why?” Livia asked, looking appalled at her lack of taste. “He is _everything_ any girl would dream about.”

She pouted dubiously at that and focused on the rack of pretty dresses in front of her.

“You didn’t get involved with one of your victors, did you, darling?” Livia asked urgently, lowering her voice.

“Of course not!” Effie protested. She chuckled for good measure but Six’s escort was watching her with too much insight now.

Livia’s lips were pursed when she pushed a blue dress in her direction. “Is it Hayden or Haymitch?”

“ _Neither_. I am _not_ involved with anyone.” she insisted.

“There are rumors about you and Haymitch.” Livia told her. “They come from Four as far as I can tell. I dismissed them because two years ago, according to the same source, I was having a _torrid_ affair with Brutus. Can you see _me_ with Brutus? I like my men with a brain, thank you very much.” She snorted but her distraction was short-lived and soon she was studying Effie again. “If it’s Hayden, it’s not so bad, but Haymitch… You really don’t want to get mixed up in this, darling. He’s a popular one. They don’t stop at anything to keep their popular in line. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

_Not_ saying, rather, Effie mused, but she understood alright. They had a hold on Haymitch because they were threatening his family and if Haymitch ever found a woman he liked, they would threaten her too.

“How do you… You know _buy_ one?” she asked, spitting the word as it had personally offend her. It had on some level. “If I wanted to, let’s say, rent a victor’s time, how would I do it?”

Haymitch might have thought it wasn’t doable but Effie still hadn’t given up on her idea. If she could just… _book him_ for the duration of the Games, he wouldn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to anymore and _she_ wouldn’t have to find him doing drugs or getting wasted in the living-room.

“Well, you would need to befriend President Snow.” Livia chuckled. Effie could see she wasn’t amused though. Like her, Livia had long since lost any passion she could have one day harbored for the Hunger Games. Six’s escort glanced over her shoulder to make sure the two salesgirls were still out of earshot. “Rumor has it the President had a list of selected _friends_. This whole business is hush-hush because even in the elite circles not everyone is in the know.” Her friend frowned at her. “Why would you need to buy one? You could have any of them for free.”

“I’m just curious.” Effie dismissed.

Livia wasn’t so easily deterred. “You want to buy Haymitch.” Six’s escort pursed her lips in disapprobation. “The rumors _are_ true then?”

“No. Not at all.” Effie denied. “I just… How do you _bear_ it? Being there and watching…”

“You do what you have to do for the glory of the Capitol.” Livia hushed her, in a warning voice.

_Ears_ _everywhere_ , Effie told herself.

“Yes, of course.” she lied. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re just District people after all.”

She quickly switched topic to much lighter subjects like what they would wear at the next Reaping even though it was still a few months away. Yet, later, as they finally exited the shop with their arms full of bags and wig boxes and strolled on the busy street, Livia whispered, so low Effie had troubles hearing it “Don’t get swept up in the Games or they will destroy you.”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caved to popular demand and posted! Be nice and tell me what you think! ;)


	30. Chapter 30

The second the live feed died, Effie’s smile faltered.

She could already tell that the seventeen year old female tribute she had just called would be worse than Heather had been two years earlier. _Daphne_ , she reminded herself as the girl continued to glare daggers at everyone and at Twelve’s two victors in particular. Hayden kept staring at the tributes until Haymitch stepped in his line of sight, hiding him from Effie’s eyes. The eldest brother was whispering with some urgency. She wondered what that was about but she supposed she would find out soon enough anyway.

“Come on, dears.” she said, sounding as cheerful as ever. “We will set you up inside the Justice Building and your family will be in to see you in a second.”

The boy, Julian, was twelve – and her heart had _broken_ when she had seen him advancing towards the stage, pushed by the unhelpful hands of the other children waiting next to him – he was small for his age, clearly famished and terrified, and he grabbed her hand when she nudged them towards the building at their back. The girl scowled down at him and Effie let out an inner sigh. She hated when they were young.

Neither of their tributes would catch the public attention, she already knew, and it would be another year of hopeless chasing after sponsors.

She was relieved to dispatch them in their respective waiting room but her relief was short lived. She could hear the commotion from two corridors away.

When she arrived, she was shocked by what she found. Hayden was slumped against the wall, looking utterly defeated, Haymitch was standing in front of him protectively, a scowl on his face, clearly shielding him from the woman who was yelling at the top of her lungs. Mayor Undersee and the Head Peacekeeper were hovering next to the strange trio, obviously reluctant to intervene. Everyone was shouting but it wasn’t until the woman – and Effie knew Twelve’s people were poor but, _really,_ who went to a reaping with coal traces on her neck? – screamed _“Murderer”_ while lunging at Haymitch that Effie took action.

“What is the meaning of this?” she snapped, right when the Head Peacekeeper finally remembered he was supposed to keep order and held the woman back by the shoulder.

She didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t need to. She had a natural authority or so her father had always claimed. It seemed to be confirmed by everyone freezing suddenly. Hayden’s eyes remained trained at the floor but Haymitch’s darted to her and back to the woman.

“ _You_.” the woman spat, switching target. The Peacekeeper was still holding her which was the only reason Effie stood her ground. There was a flicker of madness in the woman’s eyes. “One wasn’t enough for you? You needed to take _both_? _Children killers_ , the lot of you!”

The words were darts aimed at her heart and Effie was certain her mask slipped for a second or two.

“You don’t mean it, Mila.” Mayor Undersee cut in hurriedly, urgently nodding at the Peacekeeper to take the woman away. “She doesn’t mean it, Miss Trinket. Please, understand… The shock… Your daughter will want to see you now, Mila.”

The woman _clearly_ meant it and she seemed to have a lot more insults for them but the Mayor and the Head Peacekeeper managed to drag her away. She was left in the deserted corridor with her victors, trying to hide just how much the woman had shaken her.

Not that anyone cared anyway.

As soon as they were gone, Haymitch turned to his brother and clasped his shoulder.

“You keep it together.” he ordered, shaking Hayden a little when he didn’t react. “This is exactly like any other year, you hear me?”

“Yes.” Hayden drawled out but it didn’t sound really convincing.

Haymitch studied him for a few seconds longer and then glanced at Effie. “You’re okay, sweetheart?”

“What is going on?” she asked. She stared at the junior mentor but Hayden wouldn’t look at her. He didn’t seem able to do anything but look at his own shoes. “Who was that woman?”

It was Haymitch who answered. “Her daughter Shiney was in the Games with Hayden. You reaped her other girl.”

Her mouth went dry. Not thinking about the tributes they had lost was impossible but she rarely thought about the families.

“Why did she call you a murderer?” she frowned, confused.

She could understand why the woman would call _her_ that but her victors?

“Her girl was reaped the same year as my brother. Why do you think?” he snorted.

“Oh.” It would have been obvious from the start Haymitch would favor Hayden. The mother probably had known from the moment the former escort had called out Hayden’s name. Their current tribute, Daphne, must have been around four when her sister had died, not old enough to truly remember but it certainly explained the glaring. If the woman truly blamed Haymitch for not helping and Hayden for coming back… It made sense that she would have passed those feeling on her daughter.

“Yeah, _oh._ ” Haymitch said. “Come on, we still have to say goodbye to Mama.”

He had to nudge Hayden in the right direction. Hayden was like a puppet, he barely managed a small smile when Effie slipped her arms under his and bumped his shoulder playfully but, in truth, she didn’t feel much better. Her bubbly attitude was over the top even for her and she was sure her victors noticed.

She nodded and smiled and answered all of Iris Abernathy’s polite enquiries about her health and her life, but the tension was so thick she could almost _touch_ it. Iris hugged Hayden much longer than usual and she wasn’t laughing with fond exasperation like she usually did when she told Haymitch to behave while in the city. She squeezed Effie’s hand when she was about to board the train. “You will look after my boys, yes, dear?”

What else could she have done but nod, smile and promise they were in good hands?

The routine was disrupted, though.

Haymitch didn’t go to the bar car like he did every year, he slumped in one of the armchairs in the living-room car with a glass of whiskey that remained mostly untouched. Hayden was so obviously grasping at straws to remain collected that Effie was left to do the small talk, chatting only to fill the silence, until the tributes finally wandered out of their rooms for dinner.

Dinner on the train right after the Reaping was difficult on a good day.

It clearly wasn’t a good day.

Julian stuffed himself with the first course, not even bothering with cutlery despite her rebukes and Hayden’s numerous requests to slow down before he got himself sick.

“Leave him alone, you stupid _bitch_.” Daphne spat, stabbing a tomato in what was probably meant to be an intimidating fashion.

Effie didn’t bat an eyelash. “A lady minds her language.”

“Kiss my ass.” the girl growled.

“No, thank you.” she huffed, not hiding her distaste at the crude language.

“Don’t talk to Effie like that.” Hayden cut in. “She’s not your enemy. She’s here to…”

“She’s Capitol.” Daphne interrupted him. “And _you_ killed my sister. And _you_ let her die.”

The last part was directed at Haymitch who didn’t even bristle at the accusation. He shrugged and brought his glass to his lips. Effie wondered what it meant that she could tell the carelessness was all for show.

“And I would do it again.” he affirmed.

“Haymitch.” Hayden sighed.

“You’re despicable.” Daphne snarled.

“And don’t you forget it, sweetheart.” Haymitch scoffed.

Daphne grabbed a slice of bread and stormed out.

“Well, that went well.” Haymitch snorted.

It was toppled with Julian, who had kept on eating while they were arguing, being sick right on the table.

Effie dropped her knife and her fork, stomach churning unpleasantly, utterly done.

°O°O°O°

Haymitch didn’t know what possessed him to knock on her door.

It was late, the day had been rough and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to face her. She had done such a good job at avoiding him after his stunt with the drugs and the subsequent shower the previous year that they had never really had a chance to get their footing back. He didn’t know where they stood. Pretending nothing had happened was the safest course of action, though, and the one he was going with.

Hayden had locked himself in his room and Haymitch was going mad in his. He needed company.

He didn’t bother waiting for her reply before going in. She was already in bed – although not wearing anything red or silky – but her notepad was on her lap and she had clearly been busier working than trying to sleep. She was blond again, he noticed with some measure of satisfaction. He didn’t feel guilty when he crashed on the empty space on her bed, on the closest side to the door. He grabbed a pillow and lied down and she watched him make himself at home next to her as if he was crazy – which was a fair assumption in his opinion.

“Are you _drunk_?” she asked at last.

“Hayden’s upset. ‘Can’t get wasted when Hayden’s upset.” he retorted. It wasn’t for a lack of desire to _be_ drunk though. He hadn’t been prepared to deal with Mila Lowson again. He had become an expert in avoiding her and her daughter ever since Hayden’s Games, mainly because she was right to hate him.

“If he knew that was a rule, I can guarantee he would be upset every day of the week.” she joked, placing her pen on her notepad to look down at him.

“My secret’s safe with you.” he snorted. “What’s one more?”

“Quite.” she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Are _you_ upset?”

_Damn_ _her_ she was too perceptive. Or maybe she knew him too well by now.

He stared at her ceiling for a while. When he didn’t answer, she went back to scribbling in her notepad. Adjustments to the schedule probably, she was overly obsessed with it.

Haymitch’s mind was a mess. _He_ was a mess.

“The girl’s right, you know. I let her sister die.” he said.

Effie let out a long sigh. It wasn’t annoyed – or, at least, he didn’t think it was – but, rather, it was tired. “What else could you have done? Hayden is your brother. Of course, you looked out for him more than you did for the girl. It’s only natural.”

He closed his eyes, feeling sick and wishing it was from too much alcohol. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, sweetheart.”

His stomach was hurting. He thought it was the guilt gnawing at him from inside, _burning_ him alive. The image was soothing, as paradoxical as it was, because maybe then he would know peace.

“How?” she asked.

“Told you already.” he said, slightly reproachful. She should have listened the first time when they had been on that roof and she was so set on accusing him of lying, she should have…

“Tell me again.” she requested softly.

Her fingers brushed through his hair, tentatively at first but then with more confidence. He shut his eyes tighter but he leaned into her touch. It was soothing. _She_ was soothing.

“After I won, I played the puppet but I refused to be sold.” he mumbled. It was the utmost form of humiliation in his mind, something he couldn’t resolve himself to, even faced with the growing threats. It was debasing. It made him feel as if he was nothing more than an object, not a human being any longer but a shiny toy for the Capitol’s entertainment. “I did other things for them… Bad things… I was useful for a while but after a couple of years… I wouldn’t let them sell me so they reaped Hayden. It was _my_ fault, Effie. Mama was crying over rotten luck but I knew it was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.” she protested quietly. “None of this is your fault.”

Perhaps, perhaps not. He had learnt long ago that there was no use trying to pin the blame on anybody other than himself. Some in the District blamed him for Maysilee’s death, others for his lack of interest in mentoring the tributes, there were those who hated him because he publicly had affairs with _Capitols_ … Everyone was unanimous that he was at least partly responsible for Shiney’s death. Most people didn’t even remember her name anymore, for them she was ‘the female tribute of the fifty-fifth Hunger Games’ but Haymitch, try as he might, would never forget.

She had been terrified from the start, that girl, knowing as soon as she had put a foot on the train that all he would do would be for Hayden and not for her.

“I killed them all.” he confessed in a whisper.

Her fingers stilled in his hair and he was careful to keep his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see her face. “What?”

“I won Hayden’s Games for him.” he said. “I rigged them.”

It was the first time he admitted as much aloud. Chaff probably knew or, at least, had guessed but they had never discussed it.

“No.” Effie refuted firmly. “You _can’t_ do that, it would be…”

“Very, very costly.” he chuckled bitterly. Deals all around. Gamemakers and government officials alike. Money, sex, extortion, hit jobs, everything he had to give, everything he could do. He had given and done it all. As for his soul, Snow had stamped his name on it. He _owned_ him. Haymitch was sure there was a nice little propriety act somewhere in his office. “All the kids who died during Hayden’s Games, they’re on me.”

He could almost hear her thinking, recalling the oddity of that particular year. The Gamemakers had been _vicious_ in their traps, targeting every group of tributes one after the others. Never Hayden, though. Hayden had remained nice and cozy in his cave without even one single close call. He was a boring victor and that was how Haymitch had intended it. Already at the time, he hadn’t wanted the Capitol to take an interest in his brother.

Effie was silent.

She was judging him probably. She had no right to do that, he figured, _she_ was the one who sent people in the arena in the first place. He didn’t feel the need to defend himself, he didn’t have to. He had done whatever he had to do for Hayden and he would do it again.

“Mama thought he was going to die.” he said, out of the blue, thinking about that day Hayden’s name had been called. His mother had remained collected while saying her goodbyes, she had looked confident, optimistic even but after that… The second she had stepped out of the room, she had collapsed against her eldest son and she had broken down completely. She rarely cried. It had almost destroyed Haymitch to see it. At the time, she knew, like he did, that, unlike him, Hayden didn’t have what it took to be a killer. She had said goodbye knowing he wouldn’t be coming back.

“ _Haymitch_.” Effie’s voice was odd.

He opened his eyes to find hers full of unshed tears. “What are you crying for?”

“You, you stupid man.” she spat with irritation, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand.

“Don’t pity me unless you’re going to offer pity sex.” he rebuked, only half-serious.

“I’m not _pitying_ you, I’m…” She didn’t finish her sentence, she sighed and shook her head at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“So you say every year.” he grumbled.

She sighed again. “Is there anything I can do to make you less upset?”

“Well…” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

He wasn’t expecting the notepad she slammed against his shoulder. He rubbed it with a scowl. “At least you know what weapon to use if you ever find yourself in an arena.” She would swat them all with her little notepad.

“Don’t be preposterous.” she chided him. Her hand started slowly petting his hair again. She didn’t realize she was doing it, he figured, she was taking notes again. Gradually, he relaxed. Her nails lightly rasping against his skull was a balm on his frayed nerves.

When the knock on the door came, he was drifting off. She didn’t have time to say anything before Hayden walked in the room, freezing when he caught sight of them.

_Awkward._ Haymitch wondered if that was how his brother had felt when he had caught Effie in his bed.

Nobody said anything. Hayden’s grey eyes darted from Haymitch’s still clothed body resting on top of the covers to Effie who was sitting, her back against the headboard, and whose pen was still pressed against the page – and probably leaving an ink stain on the paper – and he must have concluded nothing untoward was going on because he shrugged, closed the door and climbed on Effie’s other side. The bed felt crowded. Her certainly never thought he would find himself in their escort’s bed at the same time as Hayden in the middle of the night.

“If you make a joke, I will kill you.” Hayden warned at the same time Effie said “Don’t you dare open your mouth, Haymitch.”.

He lifted his hands defensively and let them fall. “You two have no sense of humor.”

“We have simply no love for your inappropriate comments.” she replied. “Are you alright, Hayden?”

There was silence and Haymitch had to resist peeking over Effie’s body.

“Not really.” his brother said at last.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she prompted.

“You always want to talk about _everything_. You’re never tired of the sound of your voice?” Haymitch snorted. “’Cause it’s _annoying_ , sweetheart, I can’t even tell you.”

_So_ high-pitched.

She glared down at him and he purposely rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Haymitch?” Hayden asked.

“I’m trying to convince her to shag me.” he retorted. “You blew my chances.”

Effie’s glare only darkened.

“Even though he’s probably too proud to tell you, your brother was upset too.” she declared.

Hayden accepted her word without question. He wondered what that meant about them that he would trust a Capitol escort more easily than his own brother.

“Is it a thing we do now? Sleep in someone else’s bed when we’re upset?” Hayden joked.

Nobody answered his question.

They were ridiculous, Haymitch mused, three grown-up adults all dysfunctional in their own way.

“It’s going to be the worst year, isn’t it?” Effie sighed.

With Daphne for a tribute and a twelve year old boy who was so famished he couldn’t keep more than three or four mouthfuls of food before getting sick, Haymitch didn’t have much hope.

They had bad years in the past but he could tell they wouldn’t hold a candle to this one.

“Yeah.” Haymitch said.

“Yeah.” Hayden echoed.

It turned out that _worst_ was a huge understatement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When she corrected this chapter, Cami said I was meaner than mean. ^^ To clarify even though Daphne says Hayden killed his sister, he didn't. He had 0 kills in his Games. What did you think?


	31. Chapter 31

“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in a loop.” Hayden sighed in his glass of punch.

Effie answered by taking a sip of her own drink. The champagne sizzled on her tongue and didn’t make her feel any better. She used to love this kind of parties, she mused, throwing a longing glance at the dance floor on which people were going wild. Neither she nor Hayden were there for fun, though, they were there to find sponsors or at the very least make contacts for later in the Games.

Training was a catastrophe. Daphne refused to listen to anything any of them had to say – Effie had taken to lock her door at night, not certain the girl wouldn’t snap and try to murder them all in their beds – and was adamant on learning how to use weapons despite Hayden’s repeated warnings that there was no guarantee she would find one. Julian was a little more obedient. He followed their advices and learnt about survival tips but he still couldn’t stomach much food and he was still physically weak – no muscle to speak of. Hayden hoped his small size would be an advantage but Haymitch had made it clear to her later she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

“It’s disheartening.” Effie admitted at last. “But we can’t give up just yet. Let’s try again. I hear the Marlows are bored with Two, we could try to sweep them away…”

What she had really heard was that Mr. Marlow was a little too much interested in Enobaria for Mrs. Marlow’s tastes and that _she_ was in charge of the money. That suited Effie just fine. The Marlows were big investors, they were filthily rich and if they pledged themselves to Twelve, more would follow.

“Sure.” Hayden chuckled. “We could also try to climb the Training Center building with our bare hands.”

She pursed her lips and swatted him with her fan. “Less sass, dear. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

He opened his mouth, his eyes twinkling with amusement but was interrupted by District Four’s new escort. Della was a pretty young thing of twenty-two, all legs, long scarlet wig and bright green eyes. Effie would have hated her if she hadn’t been so sweet – and _not_ stupid like Finnick had implied the previous year, clearly she wasn’t the brightest bulb but she was nice.

“Effie!” the younger woman exclaimed in obvious relief. “I am _so_ sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could help?”

Della had been there for a year, it was enough for most escorts to learn the ropes. Still, Effie smiled. “Of course.”

“Oh, great!” Four’s escort sighed in relief. “Here, I was told to give this to Finnick and explain about special appointments but…” Della bit her bottom lip nervously. “I have _no_ idea what those special appointments are about. And am _I_ supposed to do something? Arrange for a car or something else?”

Effie stared at the little grey envelope Della was waving around with dread. She grabbed the other woman’s wrist before she could catch the attention of the entire room. Della looked surprised but seemed to get the message and placed it back in her purse.

“Special appointments?” Hayden frowned, clearly puzzled.

Della finally realized Effie wasn’t alone, her eyes widened comically. “Oh, I am _so_ sorry! Where are my manners… I’m so sorry. Hello, Hayden. _Mr. Abernathy_ , I mean. Oh, I am making a mess of everything today…”

Luckily, Della was pretty and that was useful on more than one account, Effie mused. Hayden was suitably distracted that he didn’t dwell on the appointments.

“Hayden’s fine.” he grinned, outstretching his hand. “We haven’t been introduced last year. I would remember.”

Della giggled.

Hayden grinned harder.

Effie downed her glass of champagne, resigned to become the third wheel.

“Della, darling, I think you should take up the envelope to Mags and let her deal with it.” Effie said.

“It’s not urgent, is it?” Hayden cut in. “You have time for a drink, yeah?”

“Oh, I suppose so, yes.” Della batted her eyelashes.

“Didn’t we have plans?” Effie asked as sweetly as she could while conveying her annoyance at the same time.

Hayden didn’t even _glance_ at her. He was too busy staring at the other escort with an idiotic grin on his face.

“Take Haymitch with you.” he said dismissively. “You will have a better chance with him anyway.”

And just like that, he offered Della his arm and they were gone in the direction of the bar.

Effie huffed at his departing back and went in search of her other victor. The party was taking place in a hotel, there were several rooms but she managed to locate him in the most crowded one, at a table astutely hidden by a huge potted plant, in the company of Chaff and Finnick. Eleven’s victor spotted her first and whispered something to Haymitch who glared at his friend. Finnick looked puzzled but amused.

“Effie!” the boy greeted her with a little too much enthusiasm. She glanced at the glass in his hand, a pink _ish_ liquid, and pursed her lips.

“This _better_ be non-alcoholic, Finnick.” she warned.

It occurred to her at that moment that she spent most of her time playing babysitter to various men who acted like overgrown toddlers. That was what her life had become.

“He’s seventeen, let him live a little, love.” Chaff chortled in his own glass.

It was easy to see Eleven’s mentor had drunk a little _too_ _much_. She glanced at Haymitch but he didn’t look too drunk – small mercy – perhaps just tipsy.

“Being seventeen doesn’t mean he needs to get drunk.” she snapped.

“You’re not his keeper, Trinket.” Chaff retorted.

“Perhaps not but I seem to be the only responsible adult around here.” she shot back.

“ _Okay_.” Haymitch finally cut in. “What do you want, Effie?”

“You, actually.” she replied, annoyed.

There was a small silence and she realized just how wrong it sounded.

She refused to be embarrassed.

“Why, all you had to do was ask…” Haymitch snorted, triggering snickers and chuckles from Chaff and Finnick.

Effie glared at all of them in turns. “Would you all _grow_ _up_?”

“But growing up is boring and mocking you is _fun_ , sweetheart.” her victor taunted, standing up reluctantly. They walked further away from the table so they couldn’t be heard. She wasn’t sure how his hand found its way to the small of her back but she didn’t comment on it. He didn’t wait before asking what it was about. “So, what’s the next catastrophe? Where’s Hayden?”

“Oh, flirting with Della.” she waved that away. “She came to me with…”

“He’s doing _what?_ ” Haymitch frowned, searching the crowd for his brother. “And you let him? Do you even _listen_ when I talk? What did I say about him and Capitols? Do…”

“Would you calm down? She’s harmless.” she sighed.

“ _She_ might be, the next one won’t be.” he spat. “ _Fuck_ , Trinket, I can’t trust you with anything.”

“Oh, yes, let’s blame me.” she hissed. “How convenient when you spend your time drinking with your friends while I exhaust myself seeking out sponsors.”

“Yeah, well, now _I_ will exhaust myself getting into Four’s escort’s pants before my brother does.” he snapped, abruptly striding away.

She hurried after him and grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned to her with a scowl. “What?”

“You’re doing nothing of the sort.” she declared.

“Yeah? And who’s going to stop me? _You_?” he sneered.

“Della has an envelope for Finnick.” she finally managed to say. “I told her to take it up with Mags but…”

Haymitch’s anger seemed to deflate at once.

“ _Shit.”_ he breathed out, turning his eyes in the direction of the table he had just left. Effie glanced in that direction too but the sight of Finnick explaining something to Chaff with wide gestures, all joyful and innocent, made a lump appear in her throat.

“Is there anything we can do?” she asked. “Anything at all?”

She already knew the answer. If she couldn’t get Haymitch – who was a favorite of the crowd but by no mean _the_ favorite – there was no way she could afford Finnick. But the boy was _so_ nice, so young and sweet…

“No, sweetheart.” Haymitch said sadly. He rubbed his face and sighed. “I need to take care of the Della problem.”

“No.” she refuted firmly. “I will handle it.”

“Yeah?” he snorted “How?”

“I have my ways.” she promised.

Still, he looked doubtful. “Mine always works.”

“Yours will only make your relationship with your brother more strained.” she hissed. Not to mention she didn’t want Haymitch anywhere near Della. She didn’t let herself linger on _why_ precisely. “I will handle it.”

“Fine.” he gave in. “I need to find Mags anyway.”

Handling the Della problem was a little more difficult than she thought it would be. Effie interrupted Hayden’s and the younger escort’s lively conversation near the bar and gently reminded her that she had a job to do that didn’t involve flirting with victors from other teams. Still, Effie could tell the dices had been cast and Hayden was very interested. He watched Della go with a dreamy expression.

“Don’t even _think_ about it.” Effie warned. “She’s the enemy.”

“She’s an escort not a tribute.” He rolled his eyes. “And with an ass like hers, she can be whatever she wants.”

Effie snatched his glass from his hand and took a careful sip. _Non-alcoholic cocktail_ , that was her luck. He was truly smitten.

“You can do better.” she argued. “And don’t you want to find someone in your District? Someone you could have a real shot at a life with?” Surely, Haymitch wouldn’t disapprove of _that_. Capitols were a risk – fine. But a nice District girl? Hayden couldn’t spend his whole life alone for fear of his loved ones being used as leverage. This wasn’t realistic. “Della isn’t the right woman for you.”

Hayden’s eyebrows were quickly moving up in surprise, his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to laugh at her little speech.

“I never said I wanted to _marry_ her.” he replied.

Effie narrowed her eyes at him. “One-night-stands aren’t for you.”

He looked a little uncomfortable now and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “A man has needs, Effie.”

“And I’m sure there is a woman in Twelve more than willing to see to them.” she declared without batting an eyelash. “You are _not_ having any affair with a Capitol. I have enough of that with your brother, it will only tarnish Twelve’s image.” It was a huge lie but one she knew he would buy. “Promise me.”

For the look he gave her, she could as well have asked him to live like a monk. She wondered just how many one-night-stands with Capitols he had managed to keep from Haymitch before. Clearly, there had been at least a few.  

“Effie…” he tried to reason with her.

“Promise me.” she insisted.

He sighed but mumbled his assent and suggested they went back to sponsors hunting, not without casting a last lingering glance in Della’s direction.

They didn’t find a single person ready to sponsor them.

When they finally get back to their car, leaving Haymitch behind to his own – or so she hoped – devices, Effie’s feet were sore.

“What’s a special appointment?” Hayden asked as the car was nearing the Training Center. There was just enough casualness in the question that she knew his apparent disinterest to be faked.

“It’s a special com operation.” she lied. “Pictures with the best photographers, meetings with the best stylists… This kind of things. It only concerns a handful of victors.”

He was looking through the window, his face was averted from her so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Does Haymitch have special appointments?”   

She swallowed, her mouth parched, and fought to keep her voice even. “Sometimes.”

“And you’re sure that’s all it is? A special com operation?” he insisted, turning to face her.

She hid behind her escort mask, all bubbly and clueless. “Well, of course, what else would you want it to be?”

He studied her for a few seconds, as if he was searching for the telltale of a lie, but then he shrugged and shook his head at his own question. “I don’t know. Odair is such a peacock and he’s following my brother like a puppy, I bet you whatever you want that he will be exactly like him before long. New affair every week for everyone to see on TV.”

Effie turned her eyes away and didn’t answer.

°O°O°O°

Haymitch hated Four’s floor. For all their defiance and the knowledge that they had next to no chance of winning the Games, Twelve’s team had the best lodging. The penthouse was huge and it had a direct access to the roof which meant Haymitch had a convenient place to hold conversations he wanted to keep private. It also meant he didn’t have to remain standing on a balcony that was spacious but not truly meant for other purpose than being decorative.

“I’m _not_ doing any of that!” Finnick spat, glaring at Mags and him in turn. “I’m not… I’m not a _whore_.”

Mags glanced at him but Haymitch didn’t even flinch. That was a truth he had accepted long ago, he was the Capitol’s whore and would continue to be as long as they respected their end of the bargain.

“Then say no, boy.” Haymitch shrugged. “But be _very_ sure you have no one they can use against you.”

“There’s nothing they can do that will make me say yes. _Nothing_.” Finnick growled, strolling back inside, slamming the sliding door shut behind him.

Haymitch was quite certain he slammed every door on his way. _Teenagers_ , he thought, rolling his eyes. He leaned his elbows on the metal barrier, watching the city night lights. The Capitol never slept.   

“You will look out for him, yes?” Mags asked quietly.

“I can try to make deals.” he offered reluctantly. “But if yours didn’t stick…”

He had blackmail material – he had enough blackmail material to last _years_ – but he was keeping it for the right moment, in case he truly needed it.  If it could help Finnick though…

“It’s not what I mean, Haymitch.” she replied. “If anything happens to me…”

“You think you’re in danger?” he interrupted, alarmed.

He loved Mags. They weren’t friends like he and Chaff were friends but Four’s victor had always been there for him when he needed it. She had always been a shoulder to lean on, a mentor when he needed one and the voice of reason when he was too far gone to care.

“My boy, I am old.” she chuckled. “Age is danger enough. Never mind the amount of people I have pissed off in the last few years.” Her eyes were clouded with worry when she placed her hand on Haymitch’s arm. “I trust you with Finnick. I mentored other victors but this boy is different, he is family to me. You will make sure he makes it through, yes?”

“Yeah, sure.” he promised. “But Mags, if there’s really no one they can use against him…”

“Oh, there is someone.” she smiled sadly. “He just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

It took Haymitch only a few seconds to do the math. Finnick had no one except his mentor. “Mags…”

“Don’t you worry, now, Haymitch.” She patted his arm with a ruthless smile. “I have a thick skin. But just in case. I need to know someone will be there for him.”

“Yeah.” he said again. “Yeah.”

“Good, boy.” she smiled, cupping his cheek briefly. “I wish I could have done more for you.”

“You did plenty.” he denied, drawing the old woman in his arms. She felt fragile in his embrace, breakable almost. He wondered when she had gotten so old because he hadn’t truly noticed.

“Now, now.” she chided him, breaking the hug with a kind smile. “It isn’t time for goodbye yet. You should go back to your girl, she will be waiting.”

He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the fondness he felt for Four’s victor. “Would you stop with that? She’s not my girl.”

Mags looked at him as if he was an idiot.

He grumbled about meddling old ladies all the way up to the penthouse and found his way to the living-room, entertaining the idea of having a drink – or a hundred. The lights were still on and the TV screen was showing a late talk-show but it was muted, he expected to find Hayden – he wasn’t the only one suffering from insomnia in the family after all – but it was Effie who was on the couch, slumped slightly against the armrest, deeply asleep.

He poured himself a drink and watched her sleep while he sipped it. She was still dressed, complete with make-up and wig. The only concession to comfort was the high heels she had kicked off her feet.

He didn’t know what to make of her.

When his glass was empty, he jugged a finger in her shoulder twice. She would wake up with a massive crick in the neck if he let her sleep there and she would be even more of a bitch the next day. She _was_ bossy. He was relieved most of the time that she had Hayden to order around all day, he didn’t think he would have born it so well if he had been the only victor for her to parade around. It would have been insufferable and they would have been at each other’s throat every hour of the day. They tended to argue more often than not as it was.

“Wake up, Princess.”

She let out a noise that was halfway between a moan and a groan – he was _sure_ he would dream about that sound – and stretched lazily without opening her eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” she mumbled, snuggling against the armrest.

“Don’t come complaining to me when you wake up hurting all over tomorrow.” he warned her. Still, he nudged her shoulder more firmly. “Go to bed.”

“Already in bed.” she slurred. “Go to sleep.”

His eyebrows shot up but a slow smirk found his way to his lips. “Am I sharing your bed in this fantasy of yours, sweetheart?”

She _did_ open her eyes at that, blinking frantically and looking around with a startled expression.

“Welcome to the land of the awake people.” he teased. “Do tell me more about me and you in bed.” Even the powder on her face couldn’t hide the blush. It ran down her throat and disappeared under her dress. His eyes lingered on her cleavage. He licked his lips and forced his mind out of the gutter. “What are you still doing up?”

He hadn’t bothered checking the clock but he knew it was closer to the time she would need to wake up the tributes for training than to a decent hour to go to bed.

“I wanted to know what Mags had to say. Did you see her?” she asked. “Can she do anything?”

“What did I say about having this kind of discussions indoors?” he sighed, flopping down next to her on the couch. He didn’t fancy a walk to the roof though and he didn’t see why anyone would listen to them, he had done nothing to warrant a close watch. “Nothing I didn’t already know… We’re all screwed to hell and back.” He rubbed his eyes, more tired than he wanted to admit. “You took care of Della?”

“Yes.” she replied. “And I feel awful about it, if you must know.”

He waved that off. Guilty conscience was nothing new to either of them he figured.

“Will Finnick be alright?” she asked in a soft voice, probably so the bugs wouldn’t pick up on it.

He didn’t answer that.

Either way, Finnick wouldn’t be.

There were few victors who ever were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having one of those days where everything goes wrong, you know? So I'm eagerly awaiting your feedback :p What did you think? Any idea what may happen next?


	32. Chapter 32

Hayden was getting angrier by the second.

“Please, calm down and smile.” Effie hissed through clenched teeth, waving left and right at the crowd. She dug her long nails in his arm but it didn’t help. He was fuming.

The interviews were at an end and had been, as could only be expected since Daphne wouldn’t listen to them and Julian was still very much a child, a simple disaster. People had actually laughed out loud at Twelve’s tributes’ pitiful performance.

To complicate matters, Haymitch had come to the interviews escorted by a famous singer and the press had had a field day asking about their relationship, _how long and how and if they were serious_ and Effie wanted to hit something – or rather someone and the stupid singer with her pink candy hair was a candidate she was seriously considering at that moment. It was only for the buzz, she was certain of it, that woman’s carrier was going down the drain pretty fast and she had thought a public affair with a victor would put it back on track. Effie was betting she would release a break-up song as soon as Haymitch would become too costly for her and their ‘affair’ would officially end. It would be a hit too probably. She _hated_ her.

Hayden was angry for very different reasons. He felt as if Haymitch had completely stolen Twelve’s thunder by making it his own. No mention of their tributes during Haymitch’s short interviews on the red carpet, no call for sponsoring… It was all about _stupid_ Kylan Dent and her _stupid_ candy pink hair.

She was relieved to reach the backstage even though it was a chaos of mentors congratulating their tributes and escorts trying to call order into it. The various large screens in the room with a live feed of the stage now showed a live feed of what was happening outside. People giving their opinion on the interviews, talking about stylists or tributes or whatever struck their fancy…

“At least, she’s not sixty.” Hayden spat. “Mama will be pleased.”

“There is nothing we can do.” Effie sighed.

“Yeah, why?” he snorted. “I flirted with a girl for ten minutes and you threw a fit but Haymitch gets a free pass? _Typical_.”

He stormed away in the direction of their tributes. Once again, their stylists hadn’t bothered to stick around so the children were left unsupervised. Of course, given Daphne’s attitude and Julian’s desperate clinging to the girl’s hand, it would probably have made no difference. Effie made her way to them slowly, with a bright smile plastered on her lips. She paused in front of the screen, catching a flash of pink hair. Kylan Dent pressed a long lingering kiss on Haymitch’s lips in front of the camera. He was smirking and winked at the crowd. Effie wanted to throw up.

“That’s what they want me to do.” Finnick said suddenly, appearing next to her.

She glanced around, spotted Mags a few feet away with Four’s tributes. Della had made her way over to Twelve’s corner and was chatting with Hayden, all smiles.

“I know.” she said softly. “I am _so_ sorry.”

“Are you?” he snorted. He riveted his sea green eyes on her and she let her mask slip, just for a second. He mellowed a bit and nodded at the screen on which Haymitch was giving what was probably one of his best performance. “I don’t know how he does it.”

“Me neither.” she whispered. “I truly don’t.”

Although she did. _Love_. That was how. Love for his family.

Mags called out to Finnick and Effie hurried over her own team, reminding Della with a strained smile that she should take care of her tributes. If possible, Hayden became even grumpier when she sent the younger escort away. The tense atmosphere reached its peak once they all piled up in the elevator. Hayden was desperately cramming as many last advices as he could in the one-sided conversation, sensing that Daphne would probably run to her room and slam the door as soon as they would reach the penthouse – which she did – and Julian was trying really hard to stop his lips from wobbling.

The children didn’t linger once they were back on Twelve’s floor and Effie was certain the only really important rule “don’t go for the Cornucopia” had fallen on deaf ears. She didn’t even get to say goodbye properly, either they didn’t realize they wouldn’t be seeing them the next day or they didn’t particularly care.

Hayden’s face was grim and she wasn’t surprised to see him pouring himself a glass of the blue alcohol he was fond of. He lifted the decanter in her direction in an unspoken invitation but she declined.

“Her sister died because of me and now we’re going to lose Daphne too.” he snorted bitterly, as if it was a very good joke. He was hurting. It was plain to see. “How will I face anyone in Twelve when she’s dead? It’s even worse than usual.”

“Hayden…” she tried, reaching out.

He evaded her hand. “You’re staying here tonight, yes? I think I will go out for a while, I need some air.”

She pursed her lips but relented. Perhaps a walk would do him good. He was all pent-up anger ever since the reaping. “Be careful.”

He rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips – it was sad but it was an effort, she supposed – and pressed a kiss on her cheek on his way to the elevator. “Sometimes, you’re worse than Mama.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” she informed him. “I have no idea how your mother managed with you two.”

She truly didn’t.

She took her time getting ready for bed, hoping she would hear him come back. Yet, in the hour it took her to get rid of the make-up, dress and corset, slip on a yellow nightgown, take off her wig, brush her hair and finally climb into bed, the penthouse was eerily silent. Her hand hovered over the small bottle of sleeping pills but she decided against it in the end, she was so tired she didn’t think she would have any trouble falling asleep. As for the dreams… She didn’t know what was worse: the nightmares or the drowsy feeling the pills left her with the next morning.

She tried to remain awake enough to listen to what was happening in the rest of the penthouse but she must have drifted off because, next thing she knew, she was jumping upright in bed, her heart racing and fear gripping her guts. Someone was in her room. A dark manly shape that stumbled in every furniture on its way. She grabbed the first weapon she could find – her notepad – and switched on the bedside lamp while she was at it.

“I’m going to scream.” she warned her attacker.

Haymitch looked smashed beyond measure but he still smirked with amusement. “You wish.”

She relaxed when she recognized him, letting out the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “You scared me, you stupid man.” She dropped the notepad back on the bedside table and checked the clock. _Three a.m_. “Is Hayden back?”

“Back?” Haymitch mumbled, making his way to the bed. He crawled on it from the foot as if it was a swinging beam rather than a perfectly stable surface and she revised her judgment. Not just drunk, _wasted_.

“Never mind.” she sighed. “I’m sure he is alright. What do you think you’re doing?”

Hayden’s question, the night of the Reaping, came back to mind: _Is it a thing we do now? Sleep in someone else’s bed when we’re upset?_ Except sleeping with Haymitch – even in the most innocent sense of the term – wouldn’t be a good idea at all.

“Got a question.” Haymitch slurred as if it made perfect sense. Apparently, it also made perfect sense to steal one of her pillows and to lie down next to her. “You have pink hair?”

She blinked twice. “Is liquor making you blind? I _do_ hope you didn’t let anybody see you in that state, Haymitch.”

“Nah.” he waved that question off. His arm fell back on her lap and he wrapped it around her middle, tugging slightly until she finally complied with his wishes and lied back down. He snuggled against her, still on top of the covers – and she really needed to say something about the shoes on her comforter but she was distracted by the way he was nuzzling her neck. “Got drunk there, then the car.” It was probably a perfect explanation in his liquor sod brain. “You have pink hair?”

Her hair was two inches away from his face. “I _do_ think you need glasses.”

He frowned and snorted. “Not _that_ hair. Down there. Kylan is pink all over.”

All the blood rushed from Effie’s face only to come back with a vengeance. She was blushing so much her skin was burning. “This is inappropriate. This is the most inappropriate thing you ever asked me. This is… This is… This is _improper!_ ”

“More improper than the shower?” he chuckled, obviously amused by her reaction.

“Much more.” she hissed, folding her arms over her chest. It was a mistake of course because not only did it bring them in contact with the one he had wrapped around her, it brought attention to her cleavage and his eyes flickered down, not even hidden their interest. She unfolded her arms and, for a second, they hovered awkwardly, while she pondered where to put them. In the end, she settled for leaving on either side of her body but he seemed to take that as an invitation to snuggle even closer, resting his head on her collarbone.

“Bit unfair, that shower business.” he snickered. “You saw _everything_ and all I got was a peek.”

“And that’s all you will ever see.” she retorted petulantly.

“Is it?” he challenged but he didn’t insist. “So you don’t have pink hair?”

She closed her eyes in utter mortification. “Haymitch, you _can’t_ ask that to a lady.”

“You would tell Hayden if he asked.” he pointed out with confidence.

“It’s different.” she argued.

He shifted again. Obviously the position wasn’t comfortable enough and she had the distinct impression he was planning on sleeping here. “How?”

“For one, Hayden would never ask such a _personal_ and _improper_ question.” she huffed.

“True.” Haymitch granted. “But he doesn’t dream about you.”

That tiny bit of information that, she was sure, he would never have let slip if he had been in his normal state made her mouth very parched. Dreams involving Haymitch were not foreign to her, even more since the shower, but…

“I think you should go back to your room now.” she said quietly.

“Don’t wanna.” he slurred, pressing against her like a child would hold a giant teddy bear. She pursed her lips as she thought, straining her neck to look at him. His eyes were closed.

“You need your sleep, Haymitch. We both do.” she whispered.

“’Don’t sleep well without my knife.” he mumbled. “And I can’t sleep with it. I‘m gonna kill someone one day. ‘Won’t even mean to. Need more booze.”

“You do _not_ need more liquor.” she frowned in disapprobation. “You are inebriated enough.”

He angled his face up so he could look at her, his eyes were pleading. “I’m trying to stay on the good side. ‘Not to become a drunkard. I’m cutting it off in Twelve. Mama hates it when I’m drunk.”

“I hate it too.” she said. She understood why he needed it, though. There was a pattern, she had noticed. When no grey envelope made his way to him, Haymitch remained sober. She knew what sort of clutch the alcohol was for and it wasn’t just to flee the nightmares that plagued him at night. He had claimed he wasn’t addicted to liquor yet, that he was still in control, but she thought it would only take so much to make the fragile balance crumble.

His eyes were dulled by alcohol but they looked calm. “I want you.”

She was sure her gasp could be heard at least three rooms away. “ _Haymitch_!”

“Not like that.” he mumbled, pressing a slow kiss on the naked skin near the strap of her nightgown. It was chaste enough but she could swear it _burned_. “Like that too but not now. I want you. It’s scary how much.” He was drunk, she reminded herself, he was drunk and he obviously didn’t know what he was saying. She remained frozen when he wriggled down the bed to use her stomach as a pillow, still holding her thighs with his arm. “Do the thing.” he demanded.

“What thing?” she asked, confused. She wasn’t certain this wasn’t all a very strange dream.

“The thing with my hair.” His speech was jumbled, the words slurred together.

Tentatively, she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging on knots and noting she needed to plan a visit to the hairdresser because his hair was too long. Not even two minutes later, he was snoring lightly. What could she do? She couldn’t wake him up and drag him to his room… For one thing, he would be a dead weight and Hayden wasn’t there to help and for another they would probably wake the tributes who needed their sleep just as much as they both did. In the end, she simply switched the lamp off and fell asleep with a hand on the back of his head.

The shrill beeping of her alarm clock woke her up hours later, prompting a protesting groan out of her. She felt around the bedside table until she found the device and pressed the right button to make the sound stop. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes, she burrowed into the warm body behind her, the arm passed around her waist tightened instinctively, drawing her closer. She smiled when she felt the slight burn of stubble rasping against her nape. He was waking up and other parts of him were waking up with him. This was the best dream she had in a while.

Until he froze and she realized, belatedly, that it _wasn’t_ a dream.

“Effie?” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep, it was half anxious and half hopeful.

“Yes.” she answered at once, relieved to feel him relax behind her. Obviously, he had been even drunker than she had thought if he was scared of waking up with a stranger. “I should be vexed you even have to ask.” she joked.

He snorted against her neck. They should move, she thought, there had been excuses to be found in the middle of the night but now there were none and this was as improper as it got.

“Did we…” His sentence trailed off but she didn’t have to ask what he meant.

“No.” she said.

There was a small silence and then the arm around her waist loosen in what was probably an invitation for her to roll around and face him. She didn’t move. She wasn’t sure she wanted to face him.  

He cleared his throat. “Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart… But how did I end up here?”

“You were drunk.” she explained. “You crashed on my bed and…” It occurred to her suddenly that he had clearly gotten comfortable during the night because he was under the covers with her. “Please, tell me you don’t have your shoes on still.” she growled. A quick probing with her bare foot revealed that, yes, he did. She narrowed her eyes and sat up to glare at him. “Honestly! _Who_ keeps their shoes in bed? Do you know where your soles have been? Do you know how many germs and dirt you left in my bed? _Honestly_! No basic concepts of hygiene whatsoever! I swear! Why are you smirking? Do you think this is funny?”

He propped himself on his elbow, the smirk never leaving his mouth. It did little to hide the dark bags under his eyes.

“It’s funny that the only thing you find wrong with the idea of waking up to me spooning you is my shoes.” he retorted.

“No, it’s not.” she glared. “Next time, I will make you sleep on the floor.”

“Sure.” he humored her, his smirk deepening.

She huffed and got out of bed, in a mind to get ready before they were late _again_. She felt his stare on her body but instead of slipping on a dressing gown – like she _really_ ought to have done – she turned around and planted her hands on her hips.

“Hayden is furious with you.” she informed him.

“What’s new?” he snorted, not even bothering to hide he was ogling her.

It might have been rhetorical but that question came back to haunt them hours later when, after Daphne predictably got herself killed trying to grab a bag at the Cornucopia and Julian was stabbed while still standing on his platform, Hayden refused her offer to arrange a train back to Twelve.

This year, he wanted to wait after the crowning, he claimed.

The routine had been disrupted that year, that was true, but Effie just knew given Hayden’s evasive answers, that something was up with him. She just didn’t know what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer a recurrent question : no this story won't end anytime soon and yes I plan to take it up until MJ (so yeah, nooooot anytime soon :p). There is still a lot waiting to happen and a lot of things to be said. I think it will be interesting to see how Haymitch's family being alive impacts on the whoooole of Haymitch's life.
> 
> Lot of hayffie today! What did you think? Did you like it? What do you think Hayden is up to? Tell me everything!


	33. Chapter 33

Breakfast was a tense affair and Effie could see Haymitch was regretting showing up with each passing second.

The Games were drawing to a close, their tributes had been dead for five days and Hayden was buttering his toast as if it was a common occurrence for him to linger so long in the Capitol. He had offered no explanation for his staying, simply stating that he would leave at the same time as Haymitch and that the Capitol couldn’t have a problem with it since it would save them the money of sending a second train. Secretly, Effie thought he was afraid of going back to Twelve and facing the disappointed people there. Haymitch thought there was something else.

“You have any plans today, baby brother?” Haymitch asked at last, breaking the silence, over his cup of coffee.

Effie could only stare, as if watching a sparring match, as Hayden calmly put down the toast.

“What are yours?” the junior mentor shot back.

Haymitch simply shrugged. “Nothing set yet.”

The exchange would probably have sounded casual to anyone who didn’t truly know them. That was why they always looked so close on TV, they were good at hiding the real problems, yet Effie knew better. She pretended to be completely oblivious because that was how they dealt with everything in this penthouse but she could see the way Hayden was clutching his butter knife and the set line of Haymitch’s clenched jaw.

“I will probably just wander around.” Hayden said and it sounded like a challenge. He had taken to exploring the city or so he said. He claimed that in all those years of mentoring, he had never gone anywhere that wasn’t Game-related and that it should be corrected. Effie had offered to give him a tour but he had declined, stating he would rather walk at random and discover the Capitol by himself.

“You could help Effie with making contacts.”Haymitch pointed out.

“Or _you_ could.” Hayden retorted. “You’re the one with no plans.”

Effie carefully dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “I don’t need any help, thank you.”

Hayden would start to brood after a while of trying to make contact with sponsors and Haymitch would be grumpy and snappish after five minutes. She would have better results on her own. She was targeting the male sponsors anyway and they were _way_ more responsive when she wasn’t trailed by two overprotective victors – Hayden had glared at a man for _hours_ the other day because he had groped her, as for Haymitch, he wasn’t as openly hostile as his brother for obvious reasons but she could almost see him planning the murder of every people with wandering hands. It was sweet of them. Annoying but sweet.

Silence fell back on the dining room despite her few attempts at small talk. She was in the middle of a story about just how _shallow_ Eleven’s escort was when Hayden who clearly hadn’t listened to a single word - and wasn’t that just _rude_ – cleared his throat.

“By the way, Haymitch, I meant to ask…” he said, casually dropping another pastry in his brother’s plate as he filled his own. “Do you know what special appointments are?”

Effie was very sure the piece of blueberry muffin Haymitch had been chewing went down the wrong pipe because he started coughing. She pushed her own glass of orange juice in front of him with her sweetest smile.

“I explained this already, didn’t I?” she said. “It’s nothing but a special com operation.”

“What she said.” Haymitch spat, once he was done choking on his pastry.

Hayden didn’t look convinced, he leaned back in his chair and watched them both with a thoughtful expression. “Funny. I asked your friend Chaff, he said I should take it up to you.”

She wouldn’t wish to be in Chaff’s shoes once Haymitch would get a hold on him.

“He probably doesn’t know what it is.” Effie lied swiftly. “I told you it concerns some victors only.”

“Yeah, so you said.” Hayden nodded. “Still… You would think someone who has been in the Games for so long would know.”

“Liquor’s a bitch on your brain after a while.” Haymitch snorted. “Either that or Chaff was messing with you.”

“Was Mags messing with me too?” Hayden snorted. “What about Seeder? And the guys from Five? ‘Cause I never talked to them before and as far as I know they’re not your buddies so why would they mess with me? Maybe I should just go and ask Enobaria, maybe _she_ will give me a straight answer.”

“ _I_ just gave you a straight answer.” Effie huffed. “And you should mind your tone, Hayden, you are being excessively rude.”

“Maybe _you_ should just shut up, Effie.” he retorted, leaving her speechless. “You pretend to be my friend but you lie to me with a straight face.”

Effie closed her mouth and pouted in displeasure as much because of the way he had talked to her as  because he was right.

“Leave her out of this.” Haymitch cut in. “She’s only doing what I asked her to do.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Hayden scoffed. “Question is _why_?”

“To spare your feelings.” Haymitch shrugged.

Effie’s palms were clammy, her heart was racing. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She licked her lips nervously and half rose out of her seat. “Do you…” she started, planning on offering them privacy. If Haymitch was going to confess _everything_ , they would need it.

“No, stay.” Haymitch waved his hand in a careless gesture before turning to Hayden once again. “ _Special appointment_ is a code name for prostitutes.”

Hayden’s eyes darted from his brother to Effie. “Prostitutes?”

“Prostitutes.” Haymitch repeated. “That’s a service only a few victors get. I knew you would throw a fit so I asked Effie to lie. Right, sweetheart?”

And he was asking her to lie _again_.

_Let him think I’m a pig_ , he had said.

Effie’s lips remained tightly closed. Why couldn’t he _just_ tell his brother the truth? Why the convoluted lies?

“Why would _you_ pay for sex?” Hayden narrowed his eyes at him. “You have at least five different women every year. Your singer isn’t enough?”

Haymitch’s charmer face was back so fast Effie was torn between being impressed and being disgusted.

“Pretty, is she?” Haymitch chuckled.

“Not the point.” Hayden hissed.

Against her better judgment, Effie sighed. “The appointment you heard about was for Finnick, not Haymitch. The point is moot.”

Hayden stared at his brother for a long, long time but Haymitch didn’t give anything away. His face was a mask of careless detachment and Effie wanted to scream at being dragged in the middle again.

“ _You_ still lied to me.” Hayden said, pointing an accusing finger at her.

“What did you want her to say?” Haymitch snorted immediately. “Hey, Hayden, your brother’s regularly going to a brothel? I told you _I_ ask her not to say anything. If you’re going to be mad at someone…”

“Oh, I’m already mad at you, Haymitch.” Hayden retorted. “But I’m also mad at Effie.”

“She’s my escort too, you know.” the senior victor replied. “She has to do things for me too sometimes. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

“She isn’t just my escort, she’s my friend and I want to know I can _trust_ her.” Hayden shot back.

“Yeah, well, she’s my friend too.” Haymitch snapped. “Get over it.”

“She can’t be both our friends when you constantly ask her to hide things from me and she _does_ it.” his brother sneered. “I was her friend first, you just butted in like you always do because you can’t let _me_ have something nice.”

“Seriously?” Haymitch snickered. “You’re going with the ‘I saw her first’ argument? Then, maybe she likes _me_ best. Ever thought of that?”

Her cup of coffee loudly clanged against its saucer when she put it down.

“Speaking of a third party as if they are not in the room when they are standing right there is not only rude, it’s insulting.” she declared. “As for this particular topic, right now, I don’t know if I want to be friend with either of you. You are both childish and irritating and you both treat me like I’m a _toy_ the other has stolen. I am _not_ a toy for you to fight over and I am _not_ your mother to tell you you both need to learn how to share friends. _Enough_ with this ridiculous fight.”

They both looked contrite enough that she didn’t storm out like she had planned to. Silence stretched to the point of being uncomfortable.

“Sorry.” Hayden offered at last.

“I accept your apologies.” Effie said graciously. “And I apologize for covering for your brother.”

_Past and future_ , she couldn’t help but think. They were protecting Hayden though, she needed to remember that.

“He’s an ass. I’m not surprised he got you into this.” Hayden scowled.

She didn’t correct him. They turned to Haymitch expectantly. He stopped chewing on the rest of his muffin to look at them in turn.

“What?” he grumbled.

“I am waiting for your apology.” she stated plainly.

“You can wait a long, _long_ time then, Princess.” he retorted. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You are behaving like a child again.” she warned.

“Sue me.” he snorted.

She was annoyed and irritated and it was all Haymitch’s fault. She knew why he wanted her to hide the truth from Hayden, she knew why it was necessary, but would it kill him to acknowledge this was complicated for her once in a while?

“Go to hell.” she spat, rising up and _finally_ escaping that room and the tense atmosphere between the brothers.

“What did you say about her liking you best?” Hayden mocked, as she passed the threshold.

_Insufferable_. The both of them.   

Six was out of the Games too so Effie found Livia and they both agreed it wouldn’t overly matter if they decided to take a day off from making contacts for the next year – contacts never stuck that long anyway and Effie was feeling the need for a shopping trip and a new manicure, anything to soothe her nerves really. Once she had spent an exorbitant amount of money and she had new fake blue nails with glittery little stars and moons on them, she felt much better.

When she finally returned to the penthouse, Hayden was acting normal again even though he remained evasive about how he was filling his days. She quickly understood the reason why two days later, when Haymitch stormed in at breakfast – why was it _always_ breakfast? she would have liked to enjoy her morning coffee now and then – and tossed a shiny magazine on the table.

It was nothing but a gossip rag, still anything juicy enough in there would be picked up by someone and would end up on TV. She didn’t need to check the front page to know what would be on it, Hayden’s embarrassed face and Haymitch’s glare was enough of an indication.

“Damage control.” the senior victor hissed at her. “ _Now_.”

She glanced at the picture of Hayden and Della walking hand in hand in the park and pursed her lips.

“It looks like I wasn’t the only one withholding information.” she huffed on her way to the living-room to grab the phone.

°O°O°O°

Haymitch was furious.

He waited until Effie was out of the room to wave at the magazine on the table. “Well?”

“Well what?” Hayden asked, continuing to eat his fruit salad as if nothing was amiss.

“You’re going to explain yourself?” he growled.

His brother looked up at him, down at the magazine and shrugged. “The photo is blurry.”

Haymitch had to clench his fists to resist the urge to _break_ something. “You know what this means?”

“That you won’t be the only one in the family to hit the headlines tonight?” Hayden snorted. “’Cause that’s what’s really bothering you, right? Afraid I will steal your spotlight, Haymitch?”

He had rarely been so angry at his brother.

“You’re a stupid boy.” he spat.

“I’m not a boy.” Hayden growled, finally shedding off his apparent casualness. “And what I do and with whom is none of your business.”

“You go out and flaunt yourself with a Capitol girl, it _is_ my business.” he snarled. “You wanted to fuck her so bad, _fine_. Couldn’t you at least be discreet about it?”

“Actually, I _like_ her.” Hayden countered. “And don’t bother trying to get into her pants, I told her everything there was to know about you.”

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he whispered. Haymitch’s eyes fell on the magazine again. He could see it all unravel clearly in his head. Someone would see this and blow it up into a _big_ thing. People would dismiss it at first because Hayden wasn’t really popular but the rumor would take and people would become curious and then they would realize that not only Hayden was _his_ brother but that he was younger and better-looking and obviously interested in Capitols and that was if they didn’t simply decide Hayden could now be more profitable than Haymitch was and use either their family or that girl to pressure him into doing things Haymitch had spent his whole life saving him from. If that story hit the headlines, Hayden would be their slave before Haymitch could even take a breath…

“We’re lucky.” Effie announced, reappearing on the dining-room threshold. “The boy from One just won. Nobody will care about the article. You need to leave for Twelve immediately. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“I’m not going back yet.” Hayden argued.

“Oh, yes, you are.” Effie hissed before Haymitch could. “If you had confided in me, I could have helped you keep it out of the medias but now we need to get you as far away from the spotlight as we can before this boomerangs and hits us right in the face.”

If Hayden’s sulk was to believe, he wasn’t happy about her decision to side with him. “Haymitch’s sordid affairs are on the news every two days and…”

“And it’s _expected_ , Hayden” she interrupted him. “ _That’s_ the difference. Haymitch is a playboy, it gives us screen time, it gives us attention. People like it, they laugh at it, they want to know what’s going on in his life, what’s the latest scandal. _You_ , on the other hand, are the shy one, the boy-next-door. If they learn about this, they’re going to want interviews, exclusive pictures… They will spin this into a wonderful love story and you won’t be able to escape it. Never mind the fact that she works for Four. Not everyone will be kind. Do you know what they’re going to say about you seeing an escort from another District? There will be talk of under the table agreements between the two of you. They will say you arrange for the other’s tributes to win. Do you really need _this_ , this year of all years? I warned you this would happen.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.” Hayden shook his head. “Della and I are just…”

“You’re over, that’s what you and Della are.” Haymitch cut in. “Effie’s right.”

“Oh, and _you_ suddenly care about Twelve’s image?” Hayden snapped.

“It isn’t _only_ about Twelve’s image.” Haymitch shouted, finally losing the meager amount of control he had over his panic. “How can you be so _stupid_?”

“Haymitch.” He didn’t know when she had moved but Effie’s hand was suddenly on his arm and he forced himself to relax, to breathe out. They could handle this. They _could_.

“You’re going back to Twelve.” he said in a voice that suffered no contradiction. “ _Now_. Even if I have to kick your ass all the way there.”

“I’m _twenty_ - _nine_.” Hayden spat. “You can’t order me about like I’m…”

“I can and I _will_.” Haymitch growled.

“I don’t have to listen to you.” Hayden insisted, almost smug.

As if she was sensing his sudden murdering urges, Effie squeezed his arm.

“Perhaps not but you _do_ have to listen to me if you wish for me to remain Twelve’s escort.” she said. “I truly believe the best course of action is for you to leave as soon as possible and if you refuse, I won’t spend months clearing up this mess with the medias.”

Hayden looked incredulous. “You’re threatening me with _quitting_?”

“No.” Effie breathed out. “I am stating a fact. I am sorry, Hayden, believe me I truly am.”

The younger man stared at her as if she had just stabbed him in the back, then he shook his head and stormed away.

“Ask for a train.” Haymitch requested.

“I already did.” she replied. “He’s leaving at noon.” He breathed out and rubbed a hand on his face but she wasn’t done. “I also spoke to a few of my friends. I can’t promise anything but with the new victor just winning the Games, they said they would try to bury the story.”

“Alright. Thanks.” he said. “I need to take care of the girl.”

She squeezed his arm again. “I will do it.”

“Yeah, see, you already said that and look at how it all worked out.” he sneered.

She pursed her lips in annoyance. “I trusted Hayden to do the smart thing.”

He almost laughed at that. “When a man fancies a woman, never trust him to do the smart thing, sweetheart.” He slowly detached her fingers from his arm and was careful not to look at her when he added “And that’s not just for Hayden.”

She was silent for a second, when she spoke her voice was strained. “I will take care of Della.”

He hesitated and then nodded his assent, still doubtful.

He shouldn’t have doubted her, he mused, five weeks later, sitting in their living-room in Twelve. He was reading but he couldn’t quite concentrate and his eyes kept glancing at the talk-show his mother was sort of watching while knitting – it used to be a way to fill the silence but now she always hoped to glimpse Effie. She had become fond of their escort, sometimes they talked on the phone for hours at a time.  Hayden was bringing more logs in to stock them next to the fireplace when it happened. It was nothing but a mention : Four’s District’s relationship with one of President Snow’s close advisor becoming serious, rumors of her quitting, rumors of marriage…

Della had taken none of Hayden’s phone calls, he knew, and during his brother’s weekly talks with Effie, the subject was carefully avoided in the midst of stylists and Games related discussions, as far as he was aware. Hayden wasn’t speaking to him much these days.

His brother dropped the logs in a heap and turned on his heels. Seconds later, the front door slammed shut.

“What has gotten into him?” his mother asked, surprised and a little worried. She had been worrying about Hayden a lot lately but the two brothers were closemouthed about what had happened.  

Haymitch stood up with a sigh and started piling up the logs.

“I’m sorry.” he said, for no other reason than he _was_. Hayden was unhappy and he had never wished that to his brother but what else could he do? It would take a revolution to change the ways things worked and they were far from it yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! So if you follow me on various social media you might already know that I’m leaving on holidays from Wednesday 30 to Friday 9 wich means there won’t be any prompts or updates in that time frame. BUT because you are awesome readers who leave lots of feedback (hint hint) and because I have an aaaawesome beta who forsake buiding cabinets to help me proofread, we will only miss one week of Invictus and there will be an update on Friday 9 (although I am not promising usual hour of posting). Which means basically that I will see you again in two weeks time and I don’t want to spoil but we discover someone is ticklish so... Chapter 34 is not one you want to miss ;)
> 
> What did you think of this chapter?


	34. Chapter 34

Haymitch was lying on his bed and staring at the strange shadows the soft glow of the bedside table lamp was projecting on the ceiling. His book was forgotten on his chest, he couldn’t focus on it, his mind kept on imagining new horrors to torture him. It was really windy that night, winter was coming fast and winters in Twelve were never mild, to Haymitch it sounded like muffled whimpers of pain. Sleep was not an option. He knew that if he shut his eyes, familiar ghosts would dance on his eyelids. He could almost hear them as it was, hear their accusations and reproaches and threats.

Liquor would make it better but they all had a point about his weakness for alcohol and he wasn’t blind enough yet not to see it. He could go without it but he tended to turn to wine and Ripper’s moonshine at the smallest excuse lately. It was dangerous – not that he cared about himself or his health but being drunk meant a loss of control Haymitch wasn’t sure he could afford if he wanted to keep his family safe and alive. The story with Della seemed to definitely be buried and forgotten but it had made  him wary. Hayden’s obvious general unhappiness was making him wary.

But he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to make everything better because he couldn’t _let go_ of the need to protect his brother, he was a hundred percents certain the truth wouldn’t set them free, that it would kill them all instead. And he felt guilty, _so_ guilty, because either way Hayden was unhappy and he was responsible.

So he stared at the ceiling and pretended he wasn’t yearning for a drink and that the ghosts weren’t ready to pounce on him as soon as he would give in to the eventual need to close his eyes.

Nothing he wasn’t used to.

The shrill ringing of the phone downstairs disrupted the familiarity of his train of thoughts. At first, he thought he must have been dreaming but it persisted and he bolted out of bed without knowing why. It was only when he was at the bottom of the stairs, Hayden hot on his heels, that he understood where the _fear_ was coming from.

There was only one person who called the house and she would never do so in the middle of the night if it weren’t an emergency.

Hayden reached for the phone at the same time he did but Haymitch was quicker.

“Hello?” he panted, out of breath from the mad dash from his room. Hayden was barely faring better, his grey eyes were wide opened and, even in the darkness, Haymitch could see the worry in them. His own concern turned to dread when he heard the sound of muffled sobs on the other end of the line. “Sweetheart? Sweetheart, is that you?”

Who else could he be, though?

“ _Haymitch_.” the person said, just as the lights were abruptly turned on in the hall. A second later, the kitchen was flooded with neon lights and Haymitch had to blink not to get blinded. His mother stood on the threshold, in her nightgown, wrapped in a woolen shawl.

Still, Haymitch sighed in relief when he recognized the voice.

“Is she alright?” Hayden pressed, reaching for the phone again. “What’s wrong?”

Haymitch avoided his grabby hands. “It’s Finnick.”

He didn’t miss the way his mother’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“It’s two a.m. Did he hurt himself while falling in a mirror?” Hayden scoffed.  

_“Haymitch, are you there?”_ Finnick asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” he answered, tuning out the whispered argument between his mother and his brother. Hayden was being lectured about being too judgmental and he didn’t like it one bit. Haymitch didn’t ask how Finnick had gotten a hand on his number, he supposed Mags must have it somewhere. It didn’t explain why the boy was calling in the middle of the night. “What’s wrong?”

He could only hear labored breathing for a few seconds and Finnick’s voice was strangled when he spoke again. “ _Mags had a stroke.”_

The words slapped him right in the face.

He didn’t know why he was shocked. He should have expected it.

Still, he found himself grasping around for a chair and Hayden must have glimpsed something on his face because he pushed one toward him and frowned when Haymitch heavily slumped on it.

“Is she…” He couldn’t bear to finish the question.

_“No. But the doctors aren’t sure if she’s going to make it. They say if she has another one, it’s over. They say…”_ Finnick’s voice broke down and Haymitch closed his eyes really, _really_ tight. Mags was a very good friend. She had always been kind to him – and that wasn’t a given between victors – she had always been supportive and loving. He had come to think of her as the old sassy aunt you couldn’t help to love, a second mother of sort.

“What’s wrong, darling?” his mother asked quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He must have looked as bad as he felt because his mother rarely called him that anymore. He covered the receiver with his hand before he explained. Hayden remained tight lipped and grim faced but he patted his shoulder while his mother ran her hand up and down his other arm soothingly.

“ _She was fine earlier_.” Finnick said, after a few minutes of sniffs and badly hidden tears. “ _Haymitch, she was_ fine _, we were laughing and she ate one of those cakes and then… I just came back from the hospital and there was a bunch of white roses in front of my door and an invitation to spend Victory Tour in the Capitol_. _Is it… Does it mean what I think it means?”_

_Fuck_.

That was all that came through his head.

“Yeah.” he said, feeling sick.

He hadn’t thought it would be possible for Finnick to sound more desperate but he was mistaken. The boy sounded positively _crushed_ next and young, so, so very _young_. “ _Do I have to?”_

_Yeah_ , he wanted to scream, because if Finnick didn’t then Mags _would_ have another stroke for sure. His eyes fell on his mother, on her comforting face, and darted to his brother. He knew what he would have done if he had been in Finnick’s shoes – he _had been_ in Finnick’s shoes, he _was_ in Finnick’s shoes, and he would do anything to keep Hayden from stepping in those – but it wasn’t his decision to make. Mags would have hit him around the head if he had made it for the boy.

“Your choice.” he offered.

“ _Not really, is it?”_ Finnick laughed and it sounded broken and _wrong_.

“I will come.” Haymitch said, without really thinking it through. “I will ask Effie to arrange it. You don’t have to be alone. I will come.”

“ _I…”_ Finnick hesitated. “ _Yes, please.”_

“Okay.” he nodded even though the boy couldn’t see him. “Now, go get some sleep and call me back when you know more about Mags, yeah?”

_“She’s all I have_.” Finnick said.

Admitting that out loud on the phone probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

“I know.” he said. “Go get some rest.”

The boy didn’t fight him on that and when Haymitch hang up, he was faced with two curious pair of eyes.

“You want to go to Four?” Hayden frowned, doubtful. “You think they will let you?”

“I… No.” Haymitch cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will meet him in the Capitol for Victory Tour.” Both Hayden and his mother looked disapproving and Haymitch was _so done_ for that night. “They’re requesting his presence. You want me to leave him on his own without Mags?”

His mother softened at that. “Poor boy…”

“It’s sad about Mags but he’s a peacock.” Hayden grumbled.

“You don’t know him.” Haymitch snapped defensively.

“I know he’s shallow and self-absorbed.” his brother snorted. “Look, I’m sorry about your friend, alright? But Odair is no better than Gloss or Enobaria or…”

Hayden stopped but not quickly enough.

“Or _me_?” he sneered.  

“Easy, boys.” Iris Abernathy tempered with her sternest voice. “Now, how about some tea? It will soothe our nerves.”

Tea didn’t soothe Haymitch’s nerves.

_Nothing_ soothed Haymitch’s nerves. They were still frayed when he greeted Effie on the Capitol station platform a month and a half later. Of course, there was a crowd of fans waiting with her so he couldn’t actually show it. They smiled and waved at the small crowd, signed a few pictures, until Haymitch managed to get her slightly aside and threatened to kill someone if she didn’t take him out of there.

Her smile dropped off her face as easily as his did once they were in the safety of the car.

“I’m sorry you had to come.” she said, reaching for his hand.

“I’m sorry _Finnick_ had to come.” he replied, squeezing her fingers.

It turned out to be even more of a mess than he thought it would be.

It seemed the rumors were true and Della _really_ was quitting to get married – someone she had met through Effie, a friend of her sister’s husband, someone you simply didn’t refuse except if you were _very sure_ to find a better match – and didn’t mind Effie giving her a hand which, as it turned out, meant Effie did all the work while Della run around to try wedding dresses. It didn’t make it any easier to watch Finnick go through that Victory Tour. With each new grey envelope Effie grew gloomier to the point Haymitch was waiting for her to _snap_. To an exterior eye, Finnick was still the same : his grin was cheeky, he was always cocky but there was a spark missing in his sea-green eyes. Something of his the Capitol had killed twice now : innocence.

Three weeks and Haymitch was more than ready for the new victor to reach the Capitol so they could all go back to their lives or what was left of them. Mags was doing better, or so the doctors said on the phone. Finnick wanted to have her transferred to the Capitol where there were better medical treatments but the old woman was lucid enough to make her refusal clear. She wasn’t talking, her face wasn’t working properly and there was a debate over her ability to walk again. It was still better than dead in Haymitch’s book.

Finnick never laughed anymore, he barely smiled in private. Haymitch told him he would find his peace with it all eventually, that he _had to_ if he didn’t want to become crazy, but it was all a lie. Peace of mind was either bullshit or something Haymitch never managed to find for himself.

Even now, at another stupid party with stupid people who were more concerned over the state of their stupid feather outfits – feathers were the  latest rage or so Effie had claimed – than the boy slowly dying in front of their eyes, Haymitch would have liked nothing more than to _rebel_ over the injustice of it all. It would have been easy to kill all those people, they were clueless, defenseless, and it made him sick to his stomach to find he would _enjoy_ making them suffer anyway. They were so _blind_.   

“Stop your murder plotting.”

Effie appeared at his side suddenly, slipping her arm under his with a familiarity he wouldn’t have allowed anyone else. He took a sip of his whiskey – sadly the only glass he had granted himself – not confirming nor denying her assumption. Not for the first time that evening, he studied her, wishing he could find her as ridiculous as the other parrots around the room. She didn’t look like an outlandish bird, though. The dress suited her well. The blue corseted bodice hugged her waist and her breasts, making up for its apparent simplicity with convoluted golden embroideries and a delicate rim of lace that enhanced her cleavage; the bubble skirt was a blue shade darker than the corset, it was puffy, made with a thousand of little feathers that rustled when she moved. She was wearing golden heels that laced up her mid-calves and he could glimpse touches of gold in her light blue wig. The make-up was too much, as usual, all gold and blue to go with the outfit, it hardened her face. Or maybe, it was watching Finnick deal with everything that was making her face hard.

“He doesn’t have any appointment, tonight.” she said and he wondered at what point she had started to read his mind like that. “I told him to go out and enjoy himself. Take his mind off things, you know.”

“Good.” he commented. Chaff had done the same thing for him once, it hadn’t really worked out but it was still better than nothing. “Let’s get out of here, I’m sick of these people.” She nodded at once, as if she was just as eager to escape the party. The car was waiting out front and he had to force himself to smile through the flashing of numerous cameras. The charmer grin disappeared as soon as he was in the car. “I don’t want to go back to the penthouse. Take me somewhere else. Anywhere that isn’t Games related.”

He was sick and tired of the penthouse. He was sick and tired of sitting on that couch and watching Finnick brood in the closest chair, half grateful not to be alone and half resentful because Haymitch had been mostly left alone since he had arrived in the Capitol – why would they be interested in him when they had a brand new toy? He was sick and tired of Hayden’s clipped voice on the phone when he called to check on his family. He was sick and tired of his life. And, above all, he was sick and tired of forcing himself to smile.

He didn’t know what Effie said to the Avox driver but the car took the opposite direction to the Training Center.

“Did they already ask you to transfer to Four?” he asked casually. She had basically taken over for Four’s escort, he was expecting the switch to be made official any day now.  

“They have their eyes on a new model actually. She’s a big hit in the fashion field.” Effie countered lightly.

“So we get the brainless model and Finnick snatches you away.” he snorted. “It keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?”

“How would you know she is brainless… You don’t even know who I am talking about.” she argued on a reproachful tone.

“She’s a _model_. You’re _all_ brainless, sweetheart.” he teased.

“Why, _thank you_.” she huffed.

He couldn’t tell if she was really offended or only pretended to. He plucked a feather from her dress and, this time, there was no interrogation as to the nature of her glare. He smirked and made the feather twirl between his fingers absentmindedly.

“You’re going to tell Hayden or you want me to do it?” he tried to keep his voice level but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“I didn’t say I was leaving, Haymitch.” she sighed. “They didn’t offer me the position and I don’t think they will. Head Gamemaker Torello seems to think I can work miracles with the Abernathy brothers. I wonder where he got the idea.”

“No clue.” he smirked, relaxing slightly. She wouldn’t go anywhere and that was one less thing to worry about. Sure, he complained a lot about her methods, but she was good with the kids.

“It will be his last year, you know?” she hummed. “Head Gamemaker Torello. His successor will be named at the end of the Games but everyone already knows who it is going to be.”

“Crane.” Haymitch confirmed. “Yeah, that’s what I got from the rumor mill too.” He glanced at her. “That’s not all I got. Word is, he’s sweet on you.”

“Idle gossip.” she dismissed.

“Yeah?” he snorted. “His beard is ridiculous.”

“It’s _trimmed_.” she corrected with a pointed glance at the stubble he refused to shave. It was his distinctive trait. Brutus had his muscles, Enobaria her fangs and Haymitch had his scruffy bad boy attitude.  

“So you’ve got the hots for his _trimmed_ beard?” he mocked.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be preposterous.” She was looking out the window and it didn’t suit Haymitch. He brushed the stolen feather against her arm and she shuddered, turning her head to glare at him. “ _Don’t_ do that.”

“Ticklish.” he concluded, delighted by that little piece of news.

“ _Haymitch_.” she warned.

He didn’t let that stop him though. They struggled for a while, he plucked feathers from her skirt and tried to tickle her with it, she tried – and failed – to get away, giggling all the while. It was stupid but he was genuinely smiling for the first time in weeks. After days of watching Finnick withering away, the car ride felt like a breath of fresh air.

And like all good things, it came to an end.

“Where are we?” he asked with a frown, once they were out of the car. It had stopped between too high standing buildings in a rich residential area.  

“You said you didn’t want anything Games related.” she reminded him, already walking in the direction of one of the closest building, fishing keys out of her purse.

He had expected a private club or something like that, not for her to bring him to her apartment. He _supposed_ they were going to her apartment, at least – although any doubt he could have had about that were swept away the second he stepped into the hall. The whole flat screamed _Effie._    

He lingered next to the front door.

“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked with a small frown, waiting so she could close the door.

He wasn’t sure it was the smartest move.

But he did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! Did you miss me? This is a little cliffhanger. But he stepped in. And she's ticklish. He might put that knowledge to good use ;) Let me know what you think! And don't miss my brand new hayffie story "Happiness Therapy" on Sunday =)


	35. Chapter 35

There were colors _everywhere_.

Effie’s kitchen – or what he glimpsed of it – was painted a bright yellow, the hall was lined with colorful paintings and the living-room was a masterpiece of white and pink. For having visited a lot of Capitol apartments, he knew for a fact that it wasn’t at all the style in fashion. Rich Capitols liked their apartments with neutral colors, almost sterilized, all with expensive see-through materials, they were sad and monochrome and Haymitch hated everything about them.

“I know what you’re thinking.” she sighed “But if you had grown up in my parent’s house, you would understand why I need colors.”

He was surprised to find that, as ludicrous as it was, he liked it. It suited her. Just like her apartment, she was a blotch of colors, bright and blinding, and he found that, try as he might, he couldn’t quite look away. His life, he felt, was grey from top to bottom and she was painting colors in it. She might not even be aware of it but there were small moments… A laugh she coaxed out of him, a hand on his shoulder after another of his lies to Hayden had backfired, her fingers in his hair when he needed comfort…

He walked to the large windows, judging the view. There were better sights in the Capitol – or so he had been told, he wasn’t a fan of an endless skyline of buildings. She tapped on a panel riveted to the wall and the Capitol disappeared, replaced by a forest that seemed so real he almost could _smell_ pine trees.

“Better?” she asked with a knowing smile. “Would you like something to drink?”

He accepted her offer, not bothering to specify what he wanted. She handed him a whiskey without having to ask, pouring a glass of pink cocktail for herself. They sat on the couch.

“What’s wrong with your parents’ house?” he asked. It occurred to him sometimes that she knew everything about him, even his darkest secrets, and he knew next to nothing about her personal life.

“Oh, nothing.” she waved the question away. “Everything is perfect in my parents’ house.”

And _that_ was the problem, he figured. She was far from being perfect. She _played_ at being the perfect Capitol doll, and she played it _well_ , but she wasn’t and he doubted she had ever been.

“You never talk about your family. You like your mystery.” he accused.

“Me?” she laughed. It was her fake laugh, though, her _escort_ laugh. “I’m an open book. I’m as simple as it gets.”

“Liar.” he scoffed. She was _nothing_ but simple. He had thought she was, in the beginning, but she hid her true colors very well. She was all layers. Perhaps that was why he was so fascinated, so taken with her. It was like her wigs, they were ugly and absurd but underneath…

His hand followed his train of thoughts and he reached for her wig.

“What are you doing?” There was a small frown on her face but she didn’t sound otherwise surprised and she didn’t try to stop him when he pulled pin after pin out of her wig. She closed her eyes and let him pull it off her head. “This isn’t clever, Haymitch.”

“No, it’s not.” he shrugged, running his fingers in her blond curls. It was crumpled from being kept under the wig all day but it was still glossy and soft under his fingertips. He placed his glass on the coffee table then he plucked hers from her hands and put it down too, sliding closer to her. Her eyes were still closed, her eyelids flown with garish blue and gold eye shadow. _Her war colors_ … She used make-up as an armor.  

“We are clever. The both of us.” she insisted, when his hand ended up on her thigh. “We should know better. Everything is already complicated enough and…” She stopped talking when he brushed his lips against her shoulder and she let her head fall on the back of the couch. “This isn’t clever.” she whispered again.

Yet there was no doubt in his mind that she wanted it just as much as he did. Her breathing was quick and she bit her bottom lip when his mouth slowly trailed up her shoulder and up her neck. She couldn’t quite swallow back a moan when he reached the spot under her ear and he smirked against her skin, nibbling and licking in turn. Her fingers found his on her leg and laced them together, making them go _that_ little bit higher on her thigh.

“Perhaps… Perhaps, we can have one night.” she hesitated, already breathless. “Just… to get it out of our system. Just one night.”

“One night.” he agreed. Maybe it would work. Maybe once she was less fantasy and more reality, he would stop thinking about her so often. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up too tight in his pants with her name on his lips anymore. Maybe once the sexual tension was out of the way…

His mouth crashed on hers without any finesse or delicacy. She kissed back immediately and, for a few minutes, everything was glorious : bruising lips, wandering hands and clothes flying left and right. He drew her closer and she straddled his lap without the smallest hesitation and without ending the kiss. He was down to his pants and he had almost succeeded in taking that dress off her when he felt the change : her lips became pliant under his, her hands less demanding…

“You’re holding back.” he mumbled against her mouth. “Why are you holding back?” The lacing of her corset gave in but he didn’t try to pry the dress away just yet. “You want to stop?”

That wouldn’t be as easy as the question made it sound but he had never forced himself on anyone before so he figured he ought to ask.

“ _No_.” she hissed, her mouth trailing down his neck.

“Then what?” he insisted because the mood had somehow shifted and it was quickly turning weird. He cupped her cheek and nudged her head up. It wasn’t _easy_ to have a conversation now, when she was sitting on him and he was throbbing very badly out of need for her. “Spit it out, sweetheart.”

She licked her lips nervously and looked down at his chest. “I’m sorry, it’s just… They hurt you _so much_ , Haymitch, I don’t want… I don’t want to do anything that would bring back memories or…”

“Shut up.” he snapped, he couldn’t help it. That was another reason he didn’t want his family to know, not ever : _the_ _shame_. Haymitch wasn’t a victim. He never wanted to be labeled a victim. He would never be able to bear their gazes and the self-blaming that would follow because his mother would feel responsible and his brother would hate him for hiding the truth so long, for taking choices away from him. But above all, he didn’t want them to look at him like Effie was doing right now. “I don’t need your _pity_.”

“I don’t _pity_ you.” she denied at once, meeting his eyes.

He had been ready to bolt, he realized, hard-on or not. He had been ready to jump to his feet and slam the apartment door shut behind him. But he remained where he was because she wasn’t lying. There was no pity in her eyes, only pain. For him, he supposed, for what they made him do.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered again and he could see clearly that she was starting to panic, she pressed the dress to her chest and she placed a hand on his shoulder, obviously about to use it to steady herself when she would get up. “I shouldn’t…”

“You don’t hold back.” he said, grabbing her waist to keep her in place. “It’s different. I know it’s different, there’s no need to treat me like…” He sneered and looked away unable to spit the rest of it. In the window, the pine trees were rustling in the wind and he wondered if it was a recording or a live feed from somewhere in Seven.

She nuzzled his neck tentatively, pressed a kiss on his pulse point. “Sorry.”

“You’re saying sorry an awful lot and we haven’t even started yet.” he snorted. “I’m not going to break, Princess.”

“If it were me…” she argued.

“But it’s not, is it?” he cut her off. His arousal was quickly deflating and he didn’t want to linger on that train of thought. “Look, you want ground rules, I will give them to you : don’t hold back, don’t act like I’m different from other men you’re used to, just…” It was always tricky, even now. Sex had become something he was blasé about. Some abused him just because he was nothing more than a common good they had paid for, some wanted to pretend it was a real affair, that he loved them or would get to that point eventually, and others simply lost themselves in their own little fantasy. Effie would be none of those and he suspected sex wouldn’t feel like such a chore. He had been thinking about it ever since the night she had come to hug him with her red shorts. “I trust you, Princess.”

There was a moment of silence. He stared at the trees and she stared at him and he wondered which one of them would admit defeat first and start getting dressed again. He wondered if he would be able to pretend this humiliating scene hadn’t happened at all the next day.

“You’re wrong you know.” she murmured softly, burying her fingers in his hair and tugging gently until he was looking at her again. “You _are_ different.” She gave a little thrust of her hips and as quickly as it had disappeared, the lust was back. “You send my blood running like no one else, Haymitch.” She rocked her hips again and again until he was very sure he was going to humiliate himself in a brand new way. There was a smug grin tugging on her lips. “Do _I_ send your blood running?”

He was all for the tentative playfulness on her face. Perhaps it hadn’t been about pity after all. Perhaps it had just been about her and her already burdened conscience.

“You’re sending my blood running south _very_ fast, sweetheart.” he snickered, his fingers ghosting over the lacing of her corset once again. The dress wouldn’t go over her head so she had to stand and wriggled out of it and the sight of her towering in front of him in nothing else than blue lacy panties and golden high heels left him breathless. She looked like a goddess – not that he would ever tell her that – and he didn’t hesitate for one second to grab the hand she outstretched for him in an unspoken invitation to relocate this to her bedroom.

He couldn’t keep his mouth off her body. She wasn’t holding back anymore and it was _perfect_. Like everything with them, it turned out into a confrontation, a fight for control, she was bossy and he was directive and they ended up tumbling on her bed in a tangle of limbs, his pants stuck around his ankles. It wasn’t the most sexy and smooth of Haymitch’s moves and she giggled when he struggled to free himself from his clothes.

He made her pay for that by sucking on that spot under her ear until she chided him for any potential mark – there _would_ _be_ marks, he already knew – and getting rid of the rest of her clothes. He had intended to take his time with her, to make it last, but a single glance at her naked body lying on the bed, all his for the taking, and he knew that wouldn’t happen.

As it was, he was so impatient it took him three attempts and her amused help before he managed to roll a condom on himself. It wasn’t his smoothest moment.

“ _Fuck_ , I want you.” he mumbled, dropping a trail of kisses from her navel to her breasts.

It had been _years_ since he had wanted someone so bad.

In minutes, she was wriggling under him.

“Please…” she begged, completely unashamed. “Haymitch, _please_.”

He buried himself in her with something akin to awe and relief. Her mouth sought his but the kiss ended abruptly when she threw her head back against the pillow, eyes closed and teeth sunk deeply in her bottom lip to muffle a moan. Her nails were clawing at his shoulders in unconscious spasms and her legs locked tighter around his waist, so tight he knew her muscles would be sore later.

He loved watching her and he _loved_ all the noises she was making so instead of rushing like he always did, he slowed down and then picked up the pace at random, switched angles, found out what was making her sigh and mewl and purr… Her body was shaking with pleasure, he licked the sweat from her neck and her whimper was his undoing. He came with a groan and he brought her over the edge with him, his name nothing more than a gasp on her lips.

His body felt deliciously spent, his mind was empty, he could have been floating on a cloud for all he knew. He tried to get his breathing back under control, listening to her heavy panting. After a few minutes, he became aware of the hands lazily roaming on his sides and he realized she was supporting his dead weight.

“I’m crushing you.” he mumbled, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “’Should have said.”

“I don’t mind.” she hummed.

Still, he rolled on his back. There was a small moment of hesitation on her part but then she snuggled close, wrapping her arm around his chest, resting her head on his shoulder and hooking a leg over his. He found himself playing with her hair, tugging on curls only to watch them bounce back into place.

They didn’t talk. It was nice, not that he would admit it. He never cuddled – except when he was drunk and he ended up in her bed in the middle of the night, it seemed. He started dozing off, sensing that, for once, his sleep wouldn’t be plagued by nightmares. It wasn’t a good idea to sleep there though. She was right and they weren’t being clever. He had enough on his plate as it was.

They had agreed on one night and it was all it could be.

“I should go.” he said.

“Yes.” she agreed, a little sadly.

Neither of them moved.

It was a long time before he found the strength to leave her bed and it took all he had in him not to glance back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo? What did you think? Let me know!


	36. Chapter 36

Her boys were pining and Iris Abernathy had no idea how to help.

It wasn’t a difficult conclusion to reach. Neither of them had ever expressed any interest in the TV she often switched on as a background noise to keep loneliness at bay but ever since the end of the last Games, Hayden lurked in the living-room every time talk-shows came on and Haymitch had taken to do the same right after he had come back from the Capitol at the end of the Victory Tour.

She had been afraid, at first, that he would rekindle things with that awful pink hair singer but the only woman he had publicly appeared with at parties and red carpets was Twelve’s escort and they were closely followed by the Odair boy more often than not.

Now they both watched the talk shows with a faraway look in their eyes and that was when they didn’t scoff openly at some bits of news that, she couldn’t help but notice, always concerned escorts.

She was afraid they were pining for the same woman.

Their relationship was strained at best ever since Hayden won his Games and she was very sure that if Haymitch stole another of his brother’s girlfriends – and they might not have told her about that but she knew all the same – it would never get better. All the more so if it was serious on both parts.

Her boys were handsome, it was normal they attracted women and it was normal for men their age to have affairs – she would have liked it better if they settled with a nice woman who would give her grandchildren but what was a mother to do? – but she knew they had never really been in love. Well, Haymitch had been once, with Mabel, but she thought Mabel’s death had left him broken in that department. Hayden was another matter entirely. Every time he grew too close to someone, Haymitch would take it away as if he couldn’t stand to watch his brother have something _he_ couldn’t find again.

Iris didn’t know what she had done wrong with him.

She must have missed something, she must have failed him somehow.

Sometimes, she lied awake at night and let herself dream of a life in which her boys had never been reaped. She would still be working probably or she would be dead, the strain of life in the Seam having dragged her into an early grave, but she thought they would all have been happier. Haymitch would have grown old with Mabel and Hayden would have found a nice girl.

Winning the Hunger Games was a curse.

Of course, she was happy her boys were back and alive but she didn’t think people measured just how much of a strain it was. She certainly hadn’t in the beginning. It was only after a few weeks that she realized she didn’t have any friends anymore through no fault of anyone. She didn’t belong now. She was living in a nice big house with a roof that didn’t leak and a garden, she didn’t have to slave all day, she ate her fill every night, she simply didn’t live the same life anymore and all her friends in the Seam were lost to her, just like that. She had tried to help, give out food and necessary items but the people of the Seam didn’t like charity so while they still greeted her politely and chatted when they had time, she had no place left in the Seam anymore. Sae was the only one who still took the time to visit but that had more to do with a lifetime of friendship than any conscious decision on their part. Her life, ever since Haymitch won, had been lonely.

She would never have complained out loud though and certainly not to her boys. They were lonely too. Haymitch wasn’t liked in the District. He was a nice man but all his affairs with Capitol and his careless attitude made people wary of him. And he had never managed to depart with his boyish arrogance, he _always_ needed to be the leader in whatever group of friends he had, he needed to make sure everyone was safe and accounted for, but people didn’t like hearing that he knew better than them and so Haymitch spent more time with his geese than with human beings. She thought that was why he liked the Capitol so much, because they didn’t judge or blame him like people in Twelve did. They liked him as he was even though Iris wasn’t sure _who_ he was some days. His behavior was certainly not the result of something she had taught him.

And Hayden… Hayden had the shortest end of the stick. Hayden hardly ever made friends because people tended to blame him for Haymitch’s nonchalant approach to the mentoring work, not to mention that he had failed to bring any tribute back – people tended to forget Haymitch had been Twelve’s first victor in forever, they only saw that he brought one back and that it had been his brother.  And those who could see beyond that were still disturbed by the same thing that made her so lonely: at the end of the day, Hayden lived in Victors’ Village and other people lived in misery.

In other Districts, victors were worshipped. In Twelve, they were resented.

Oh, Iris knew her boys had flaws and she was careful to rebuke them when they needed to be scolded but they were good boys and she loved them both dearly. That was why it was so hard for her to see them so deeply unhappy.

The phone rang and Hayden got up from the couch at once, probably expecting the call. Effie did have her schedules and her calls were always regular, like clockwork. The conversation was muffled, the kitchen wasn’t far but Hayden wasn’t speaking loud enough for it to carry over the sound of the TV. Still, Iris watched from over her knitting as Haymitch straightened up imperceptibly, his ears perking up as he tried to listen to what was being said in the other room.

He noticed her staring at some point and made a big show of stretching his limbs and pretending he hadn’t been listening. She had to bite back a wave of fondness. You would think they would know better than trying to lie to their mother.

“What?” he grumbled when she kept on studying him. Guilt flashed in his eyes and he winced. “Sorry, Mama.”

He could be such a good boy when he wanted to…

“How is Effie?” she asked casually, careful not to look at him directly. The clicking of her needles was all that was heard for a few seconds.

She did love the girl. She was nice for a Capitol. She had her quirks, of course, but as far as escorts went, she certainly was the best one they saw in ages. She had heard it all from Hayden : how she cared for the tributes, how different she was… Iris had probed but her younger son denied having any romantic feelings which didn’t quite explain why he was so snappish every time Effie came up in the conversation and Haymitch ventured a comment. That was another point that was making Iris suspicious. Haymitch had never had anything good to say about any Capitol women, even those he had publicly gone out with in front of cameras, and yet, when he talked about Effie, it was with a grudging respect and something akin to fondness. There was something else in his eyes too when they talked about the girl but Iris didn’t want to linger on that. Lust was nothing new where Haymitch was concerned, he had collected affairs for years.

“Ask Hayden, he’s the one listening to her prattling for hours at a time.” he snorted. His eyes darted in the direction of the kitchen though, and she wondered why he never took the calls.

“She is your friend too from what I understood.” she pointed out.

“Not according to Hayden’s laws.” he deadpanned. “He saw her first apparently.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.” she sighed. Why did everything had to be a competition between them? They had gotten along splendidly when they were children. Thick as thieves. Wherever Haymitch went, you would find Hayden trailing behind.

“Then you’re wrong.” he scoffed.

“You do have a lot of friends out there, Haymitch.” she reminded him. Friends like Chaff and the women he went out with, she didn’t approve of in the slightest. “He only has Effie. They are close.”

She had made a mistake and she understood it at once.

“So what?” he sneered. “I should just give Effie up because he’s throwing a tantrum?”

“Is there something to give up?” she frowned.

“What are you now, Mama, Head Peacekeeper?” he growled.

“I’m just wondering, Haymitch, no need to be this defensive.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I am not blind. Something happened between you and your brother and…”

“He got _fucked_ over by a Capitol, that’s what happened.” he spat. “He fancied himself in love with this girl but turns out she likes big diamonds and huge paychecks better than him, so _naturally_ it’s _my_ fault ‘cause I dragged him back here before it became a mess. And Effie’s too but _she_ ’s forgiven ‘cause he doesn’t have any other friend to bitch about me to.”

He was gone before she could chide him for his vulgarity and she was left to sigh after him, her heart breaking for all that pain she didn’t know how to relieve.

°O°O°O°

“I heard you let Four be snatched right from under your nose again.”

The voice was teasing but Effie gritted her teeth all the same and turned to her sister, taking in the enormous dress of pink and yellow feathers. She stretched out her neck for the mandatory kisses that never touched cheeks as to not disturb their make-up and silently wished Lyssa hadn’t found her out so quickly.

Elindra Trinket always went big on luncheons but this time she had outdone herself. Her parents’ house was full of eminent guests – most of them males whom her mother had pushed in her path at least twice since she had arrived. Effie had played her part dutifully for a while, smiling, flirting and laughing as expected, and, for a while, she had been at the center of attention. She was radiant in her purple dress and she was every bit the delightful lady her mother had raised her to be. Right up until Lyssandra and her husband had arrived and eyes had started to shift, attention had wavered, because as radiant as she was she would never be as beautiful or delightful as Lyssa.

“Well, no one can say you didn’t make an effort.” her sister continued. “Word is you are good friend with Finnick Odair.”

“He’s a sweet boy.” she offered.

“I heard nothing but good things about him.” Lyssa approved. “I _want_ him at my next Games party. You need to introduce me.”

“Of course.” she lied through her teeth. She had no intention of letting her sister coming anywhere near Finnick – or her victors for that matter. “How is Rufus?”

“Well enough. He rushed off to meet Father in his study. Men, you know.” Lyssa rolled her eyes with fondness.

“Yes.” Effie smiled.

“Are you here with someone? Did you bring a date?” her sister looked around the room with open curiosity, studying the men and rejecting them one after the other. Effie didn’t bother to clarify she had come alone, she waited for Lyssa to reach the right conclusion. “Oh, darling… They’re _ancient_. Is Mother playing matchmaker again?”

“Unfortunately.” she sighed and she could spot their mother making a beeline for them both from the other side of the room, a new man in tow. That one must have been in his fifties. “Please help.” she begged Lyssa.

“If only you had given Rufus’ friend a chance…” Lyssa clicked her tongue. “I serve you the perfect husband on a plate and you give him to your little friend. Were you trying to get her to quit so you could be transferred to Four? It was a brilliant idea but it backfired, darling, you never were the cunning one.”

She tried not to think about Della or her own part in her upcoming nuptials. Hayden was really upset about it, she could tell from what he wasn’t saying, and she felt awfully guilty about the whole thing. Still, she hadn’t forced Della to go out with Rufus’ friend, she had simply introduced them and…  

“Are you helping or not?” she hissed through her teeth, forcing a polite smile on her lips because their mother was close now and soon there would be no way to escape her.

“If I must.” Lyssa sighed, letting her know just how much it was costing her. “Run away and save your life.”

Too much theatrics had always been her sister’s problem but, Effie mused, as she scampered away while Lyssa took the floor, rushing to their mother with a bright smile and dazzling everyone on her path, it had its uses.

She escaped to the bathroom as quickly as she could and leaned against the gleaming sink. She wouldn’t be able to stay in there for long, she knew, soon enough she would have to go out and start the act all over again. She used to love that kind of events – well, to be honest she never really liked her  mother’s luncheons but she used to like that kind of parties and now…

Now she didn’t know anymore.

All those men looked at her like a prize to be acquired and she couldn’t chase grey eyes, dark with intent, out of her mind. The memory of Haymitch’s hands roaming on her body was so clear it almost made her gasp.

It had been a mistake, that night.

She had hoped it would soothe the desire burning in her belly but it had only fed it.

And now…

Now she didn’t know anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next week let's the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games begin! What do you think will happen when they see each other again? Let me know what you think!


	37. Chapter 37

Haymitch had a lot of reasons to hate Reapings – he had made a list over the years. Aside for the obvious drawing of names that would ultimately end up on two new graves in the cemetery, he hated the _waiting_. The Hunger Games were a TV show first and foremost and he had learned long ago that there were always technical setbacks anytime cameras were involved. A Reaping that lasted longer than planned in another District, an incident during broadcast, bad weather… Waiting was involved more often than not.

And what was there to do when you were sitting on a stage, next to a brother who didn’t want to talk to you, with nothing else to do but watch the children trickle in front of you and wondering which one would die that year?  Well… Haymitch stared at everything but the kids. Which really meant he was staring at Effie Trinket who was making small talk with the Mayor, all politeness and apparent patience except for the foot she kept tapping in nervousness.

She was wearing red and that, in his book, was cheating.

Feathers must still have been in fashion because the upper side of dress was full of them, the skirt floated freely around her thighs. He didn’t know what the fabric was but it was light and the wind kept making it puff. She constantly had to flatten it with a hand against her leg to avoid an incident. It made him smirk. If she flashed the entire country during the Reaping, he would die laughing.

He found that even when someone signaled they were ready to go live, finally putting an end to the waiting, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from her. The wind and the skirt were a constant tease that made his mouth feel parched. His fingers kept twitching with the need to simply _touch_ , caress the soft creamy skin he knew the dress was hiding…

He heard nothing of the usual speeches and he barely heard the names she called out. The tributes were older that year, sixteen and seventeen, he gave them a look and dismissed any chance of them winning. The girl was scrawny and the boy was clenching his fists as if ready for a fight – not the right kind of anger, though, and certainly not what the Capitol would be looking for.

“Let’s find Mama.” Hayden said, once Effie had ushered the kids inside the Justice Building for the goodbyes.

Haymitch followed his brother but not without a backward glance at their escort. He didn’t listen to a word their mother had to say – it was more or less the same thing every year anyway – only perking up when Effie reappeared and suffered to be fussed over by Iris Abernathy who told her at least twice she was too skinny for a Capitol and she ought to eat more. Hayden laughed openly at that which launched a teasing match between him and his escort. Haymitch didn’t add his two cents, he was too busy staring. If she noticed, she didn’t let on. She was acting absolutely normal, as if nothing had happened during the Tour, as if… She was also very careful not to look at him too much.

“I hate to cut this short but I do think we need to go.” Effie said. She placed a casual hand on his arm. He didn’t think there was any intent behind that but it was all he could do not to grab her and kiss her senseless, just so she would _look_ at him.

She was all business after that: ushering the tributes on the train, settling them in their room… Haymitch fled to the bar car, knowing exactly how the rest of the day would unfold. Eventually, the tributes would walk out of their room and seek their mentor – hopefully, they wouldn’t seek _him_ – and the long process of establishing who could do what would start. Hayden would give himself heart and soul for the kids and he could end up a little more broken at the end of the Games.

So, really, compared to that, Haymitch’s pining was completely absurd and even a little despicable. Still, he couldn’t think of anything else but that night and the feel of her body under his and the noises she had made when he had touched her just _there_. He tried to drink it away but it didn’t chase the memories.

It was _bad_. Oh, so, _so_ bad.

She had been right after all, it really hadn’t been clever to give in because now he wanted more. He fought it for as long as he could. He let dinner time roll by, a bit disappointed when she didn’t show up in the bar car to try to entice him to go eat something like she usually did. She didn’t even check on him. Perhaps she didn’t care anymore because she had gotten what she wanted. Perhaps one night had been enough for her.

The idea that it might not have been as good for her as he had thought it was crossed his mind but he discarded it fast enough.

“Women are fickle bitches.” he told the Avox behind the bar.

The guy had been there for as long as Haymitch could remember and he was probably aware of who he meant because his mouth twitched. The Avox wordlessly poured him another glass.

Haymitch checked the clock and downed it in one go, sliding off the stool. He wasn’t in favor of “spur of the moment” decisions but, paradoxically, he truly believed one had to trust his guts. So that was why he found himself walking the train corridors, knowing it was so late that everyone must have gone back to their own room, sober enough to know this was a bad idea and drunk enough not to care.

He didn’t knock on her door, he simply stepped in. She was sitting at her dressing table, clad in a pink silky dressing gown, her blond hair tumbling free on her shoulder and her face devoid of make-up, her fingers, smudged with a cream of some sort, frozen halfway to her cheek. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then she averted her eyes, watching her reflection in the mirror as she spread the cream on her face.

“What can I do for you, Haymitch?” she asked.

He didn’t know if the wording was deliberate but it shot directly to his groin.

“Lots of things.” His voice was rough and he watched as she closed her eyes, obviously fighting with herself not to glance his way.

“We said one night.” she whispered, clutching at the edge of the dressing table. “We said one time to blow it off our system. We _agreed_.”

“Is it out of your system, sweetheart?” he mocked.

She was struggling with her own desires but it was a losing fight – he had spent the last three hours debating over going to her or not, reviewing _why_ it was a bad idea, and he still was standing there.

“Effie…” he breathed out and it was almost a plea.  

“Only tonight.” she warned. “This is… This has no point, Haymitch, no future. It’s… One last time but then it’s over.”

She was right of course and there was no point torturing themselves further. He should just step out of her room and keep his distance until their heads were cleared and they realized just how dangerous that game was. It wasn’t just the sex Haymitch wanted, it was the afterwards. It was her fingers in his hair and the strange peace he found lying next to her in bed. It was the knowledge she wouldn’t hurt him and it was safe to relax with her. It was the possibility of being himself because she knew everything and she would keep his secrets.

And _that_ was dangerous.

However, she was already standing up, revealing endless flawless legs and instead of running away, he locked the door and walked closer. She didn’t wait until he reached her, she met him halfway, and suddenly, their mouths were clashing against each other. The kiss was brutal and starved in all the right ways. Her hands were in his hair, guiding his head and his fingers were making a quick job of her gown’s belt. He groaned against her mouth when he realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“You were expecting me, sweetheart?” he smirked, ghosting his fingertips against her sides only to make her squirm to escape his tickles.

“I was about to get into my nightgown.” she denied and he could almost taste the lie on her lips.

He let it rest, dropping kisses along the line of her jaw while she unbuttoned his shirt. The gown slipped off her shoulders and to the floor at some point, not that he noticed, because her mouth was trailing down his chest and she nudged him back on the bed. He had asked her not to hold back before but he could still perceive a small hesitancy when she undid the buckle of his belt and got rid of his clothes. He didn’t have time to chide her for it because her lips were on his lower stomach and he figured perhaps _that_ was what she had been hesitant about.

Then he stopped thinking because her mouth and her tongue could do things that left him bundling the sheets in his fists.

“We have to be quiet.” she shushed him after a few moans he hadn’t managed to properly bit back. She looked smug and amused and he couldn’t help it. He cradled her head in his hand and pulled her up to kiss her so deeply and slowly that she was soon moaning too.

“Condom.” he requested, panting.

She froze, half straddling him and then bit down on her bottom lip. “I don’t have any.”

And he didn’t have any either because you couldn’t find them in Twelve. He made a face.

“You’re on birth control, yeah?” he asked. “You take the pill?”

She nodded but still looked tentative. “I’m sorry to ask but…”

“I’m clean.” he answered before she could word her question. “I don’t sleep with anyone without condoms.” It was a rule he had set early enough and that no one had really disputed. He always made sure to have some when he went on _special_ _appointments_ so there could be no excuse. Effie wasn’t a special appointment though and he trusted her when she said she was on birth control – a courtesy he wouldn’t have granted every other woman. “They test us every year anyway.”

“You don’t sleep with anyone without condoms but you would make an exception for me?” she asked, a little hesitant. “There are other things we could do if you’re not comfortable with it. It doesn’t have to…”

“You’re not just _anyone_ , sweetheart.” he snorted. “Told you before, didn’t I? I trust you. If you’re okay with it, I mean.”

Her smile was teasing and so were her kisses. “I am more than alright with it.”

“Good.” he smirked. “’Cause you’re too hot for your own good.”  

He settled between her legs but let her set the pace. She wanted slow and that suited him because he wanted to make it last as long as he could. He had to kiss her to muffle her scream when she came and he moaned her name in the crook of her neck when it was his turn.

After a few minutes, when his breathing was back under control, he rolled off her. They ended up spooning, their legs still entangled, their bodies completely exhausted. Her head was cushioned on his arm and he folded it back so he was wrapped around her as completely as possible. She was clutching the arm around her middle.

_This_ was why it wasn’t just about sex.

He enjoyed the intimacy, he _craved_ it.

In another life, he might have fled something like this like the plague. If he had made different choices, if Snow had decided he was better off as the example rather than the puppet… He didn’t think he would have been able to bear it: letting someone close. But Snow already had enough leverage against him and, as much as he didn’t want to add to those swords of Damocles swinging above his head, he couldn’t quite help it. He was lucky to still have his mother and his brother but they didn’t truly know him anymore, they certainly didn’t understand him and their affection sometimes felt more like something born out of duty than choice.

“I missed you.” she murmured in a soft sigh. It sounded almost annoyed, as if it was something she had denied herself for a long a time.

He pressed a kiss against her shoulder and, when she turned her head, against her lips. It had been a while since he had enjoyed lazy kisses, since Mabel probably, and it made him feel strangely guilty.

Guilt and Mabel were no strangers in his mind, she was dead because of him after all. He had betrayed her with too many women to count but never quite like that.

“You slipped away from me.” Effie rebuked softly, with a last peck. “What are you thinking about?”

He drew her closer, kissed her neck and deliberately forgot to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Will this "one night only" policy work? What did you think of this chapter? Let me know!


	38. Chapter 38

The Opening Ceremony was taking forever to start and Effie was finding it extremely difficult to stay still. She was sitting next to Hayden, Haymitch was somewhere a few rows below, talking with Finnick, and the hot weather wasn’t helping her discomfort in the slightest. She was waving her feather fan, wishing she had had the foresight to slip on a lighter dress – although none of her lighter dresses would have hidden the hickey on her collarbone.

“What happened last year with Della…” Hayden said suddenly. “I think it’s best if we don’t talk about it anymore. Last year was bad, let’s pretend it never happened.”

They had _never_ talked about what had happened with Della but Effie found it wiser to nod all the same, happy to simply have her friend back. Things had been tense with  Hayden during their phone calls, she could tell he wasn’t pleased with her.

“This year will be better.” she claimed with a bright smile. She didn’t convince him and she didn’t quite manage to convince herself but there was a small spark of hope all the same. Once cleaned up and scrubbed raw, the girl was pretty. _Vela_. It wasn’t a common name for Twelve and with her dark hair and bright blue eyes, Effie was sure she could make something out of her even if she had to spell it out to their stylists. As for the boy… Tenor claimed he knew how to fist fight so Hayden and Effie had decided to go with that angle : a tad on the bad boy side. It could work.

“It might.” Hayden smiled. “Let’s agree not to lie to each other, Effie.”

Her grin faltered and she averted her eyes. “Hayden…”

“Look… If Haymitch asks you not to tell me something, just say you can’t, don’t lie, yeah?” he insisted. “I just… I trust you, alright? You’re my best friend and I want to know I can trust you.”

“You can trust me.” she whispered. It felt like a lie.

“Good.” He bumped her shoulder. “So… What happened with Haymitch?”

“Nothing.” she replied quickly. Too quickly probably.

Hayden’s sigh was deep. “And here we go with the lying again…”

She glanced around nervously but no one was listening to their conversation. People were too busy discussing the Reapings and who had the best chances to win that year.

“Nothing happened.” she said again.

“Okay, just for the record? Haymitch isn’t as good at sneaking around as he thinks he is.” Hayden snorted. “So what was he doing slipping out of your room at dawn, then?”

“Why were you watching who slipped out of my room at dawn?” she countered, narrowing her eyes.

“I was hungry. I wanted something to eat and that’s not the point.” he retorted.

“There is _no_ point.” she hissed through clenched teeth. “We were just…”

Memories flooded her mind and she felt the blush creep all the way down her throat so she fanned herself harder. They had sex again in the morning, right before he left her room, and it had been… She licked her lips and stared right ahead, wondering what it was in that man that made her so flustered.

She had been woken by his twitching limbs and small groans of pain. He had obviously been caught in a nightmare but he had still been wrapped around her and it had taken no effort on her part to roll on her other side and to wake him up with slow kisses. Whatever the dream had been about, it had been beaten by her coaxing lips.

“It’s nothing, Hayden.” she stated more firmly. “Please, do _not_ get worked up over this it’s…” Her voice trailed off.

“Just a onetime thing?” he finished for her. “I knew it would happen. You two, you’re…” He shrugged. “You’ve got a spark.”

_A spark_ , she mused, that was one way to look at it.

“Can’t say I’m too happy about it but… Just make sure you don’t get invested in this, Effie.” Hayden cleared his throat awkwardly. “You know how he is. Once he has his fill, he won’t care. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She closed her eyes briefly and carefully did _not_ think about the desperate way he had kissed her before climbing out of her bed that morning – or about the tears that had escaped her in the shower.

“I’m not invested.” she offered. “It was nothing.”

“Alright.” he accepted more easily than she thought he would.

°O°O°O°

Chaff took one look at him and started chuckling. “Well, someone got laid.”

Haymitch ignored his friend and gestured at the bartender to pour him a glass. The mentor lounge was mostly deserted, as always the first day, and the other victors there were all talking about the Opening Ceremony. He watched the huge mirror behind the bar as more mentors walked in, amongst which Finnick and his fellow victor Shella who was filling in for Mags. She had won two or three years after Hayden, he didn’t remember exactly and she wasn’t known for taking an interest in tributes. She had been a volunteer and very friendly with Enobaria and her Careers crew. With an inexperienced mentor and another one who cared more about the thrill of the Games than getting her kids out alive, he didn’t expect Four to be a serious opponent this year.

“They couldn’t find any better?” he snorted, nodding at the mirror.

Finnick was trailing behind Shella, grim faced, while she laughed and caught up with her Career friends. Brutus, at least, seemed delighted to see her and Haymitch wondered how much longer it would take before rumors about the two started spreading again. It was a secret to exactly no one in the Games related business that they had an on and off relationship. He didn’t know the specifics and he didn’t want to.

“Don’t change the subject.” Chaff bumped his stump on his shoulder. “Was she everything you dreamed she would be?”

_And then some_ but Haymitch didn’t like to be mocked so he sipped his whiskey in silence.

“Oh, come on…” His friend rolled his eyes. “I listened to you moan and whine like a lovestruck teenager for days… I earned the juicy details.”

They joked about the women with whom he had _special appointments_ , that was their thing, their way to shake off the seriousness of it all, a small step toward revenge. Haymitch talked and mocked them and Chaff laughed and made fun of them and, somehow, turning it into a joke helped. But Effie wasn’t one of those women and he didn’t want her, _them_ , exposed like this for his friend’s amusement.

“Why are you so sure anything happened?” he deflected. “Maybe I just had a good night sleep for once.”

“ _Sure_.” Chaff’s laughter boomed out. “You’ve got your _‘I got laid’_ face, man – the good one not the shitty one. So you’re going to tell me you look like a happy puppy whose belly’s got scratched for someone other than Trinket? Must be some woman. _Can’t_ _wait_ to hear you whine about this one.”

Chaff knew him too well, Haymitch decided. “It was just a onetime thing.”

Or a _threetime_ thing now but… Who was keeping count?

“Haymitch, buddy…” Eleven’s victor voice turned serious. “You’ve been pining after her for two years. This isn’t going to be a onetime thing.”

“We agreed on it.” he spat. “It’s stupid enough as it is. We needed to get it out of our system, it’s done. We’re never talking about it again.”

He would get a grip, he vowed, and not think about waking up to her soft kisses. He would stop thinking about her fingers and what they could do. He would stop imagining her offered throat for him to kiss and bite as he pleased. He would…

“That’s why you’re getting a boner sitting on a stool and looking into nothing like a stupid fool?” Chaff taunted.

Haymitch glanced down in alarm and glared at his friend when he realized with relief there was nothing to see. Eleven’s victor sported a knowing smirk and that annoyed him to no end so it was probably lucky the conversation was cut short by Finnick. The boy flopped down  on the free stool on the other side of Haymitch with a sulk deep enough to rival all sulks.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine…” Haymitch snorted.

Finnick sent him a mild glare. “My new escort is useless, Shella is no help at all and my tributes think they’re doomed because we’re duffers. And you know what? They’re _right_. I don’t know _the first thing_ about mentoring. Mags always did the hard work.” He snatched Haymitch’s glass and took a mouthful of whiskey only to start coughing.

Chaff chortled in his own glass but remained blissfully silent, probably because Mags had been mentioned. It was weird for everyone not to see the old woman strolling around, seizing up the competition in this quiet way she had and snickering with Seeder at the Careers’ ridiculous behavior.

“Tip number one: if you’re going to drink it, make sure you can stomach it.” Haymitch mocked. “Sponsors won’t give you money if you spit booze on them. Tip number two : never confess your weaknesses to other teams because they _will_ use them, friends or not.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Chaff snorted, toasting Finnick. “You just made your tributes an easy target, boy.”

Finnick looked crushed for a second but it was soon replaced by a cocky grin. “You could coach me.”

Haymitch scoffed at that. “Yeah, _that_ ’s happening.”

“No, seriously…” Finnick pleaded, all puppy eyes. “I know the ropes, I’ve seen Mags do it for years, I just need a few pointers. Come on, Haymitch, _please_. I said I would never tell Hayden about the appointments. Friendship is a two ways street.”

Haymitch grabbed his glass back, suddenly annoyed. “Blackmailing me, already? You’re learning fast.”

Finnick’s cocky attitude deflated at once. “No, I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Careful how you word things, then.” Chaff advised. “’Cause threats are all part of the Games. If you threaten another victor, make sure you got the guts to back it up.”

“Did Mags threaten victors?” the boy asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Eleven victor snorted. “Blackmail is _her_ thing.”

Finnick sighed. “ _See_ , I need help. Haymitch, please…”

Damn that boy and his puppy eyes, Haymitch thought, grumpy. He had promised Mags he would take care of him. God knew in what mess Finnick would end up if he didn’t at least keep an eye on him.

“ _Just_ a few pointers.” Haymitch grumbled.

“Just a few pointers, yeah, absolutely.” Finnick grinned.

Chaff snickered. “I want front seat when your brother finds out about that.”

Haymitch sighed.

It was going to be a _long_ year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama in perspective ;) What did you think? Let me know!


	39. Chapter 39

Twelve’s team wasn’t happy.

Well… _Effie and Hayden_ weren’t happy. Haymitch, she wasn’t sure about. How would she? He hadn’t bother speaking to her in days. It was all “good morning”, “I’m going out, don’t wait up” and “at what time is the interview, sweetheart?”. He didn’t spend longer in the penthouse than he had to, every time she spotted him somewhere he was with Finnick or Chaff, and he was avoiding her like the plague when she was alone.

The party was raging, Effie had drunk more than she ought to and she still couldn’t help glaring at the tall woman wrapped all around Haymitch on the other side of the room. Her tongue was so far down his throat that Effie was half afraid he would choke on it.  

“You’re alright?” Hayden asked, coming back from his trip to the bar and handing her a glass full of a purple liquor that, she knew, would be her end.

“Yes, of course.” she smiled. “How about a dance?”

They weren’t there to dance. They were there to attract sponsors. Some people had expressed an interest in the girl but were waiting for the interviews to decide and Effie was working extra hard to make sure Vela was ready. She was coaching her every day after the children were back from Training while Hayden took Tenor and drilled more survival tips into his head. The two tributes had decided to team up and that was perfect in Effie’s book, she could find sponsors for Vela and it would benefit both children.

Still, she wouldn’t find sponsors tonight, she could feel it.

Hayden gave a dubious glance at the dance floor and cringed. “ _Not_ my kind of dancing.”

Too Capitol, probably. Effie shrugged, and proceeded to down her glass in long swallows.

“Seriously, you should take it easy.” Hayden frowned.

“Seriously, you should learn to loosen up a little.” she giggled.

She knew she was tipsy bordering on drunk but still, she thrust her empty glass back in Hayden’s hand and walked to the dance floor like a woman on a mission. It didn’t take long for her to find a man she liked and distract him from his current dance partner. The electronic music was fast and she _loved_ to dance. She didn’t even notice when the beat slowed down and the man placed his hands on her waist. She must have been drunker than she thought – or perhaps it was the glimpse of that woman’s arms wrapped around Haymitch’s torso – but she didn’t protest when the man drew her closer and his hands slid lower. She knew she should have put a stop to it then because she was very much encouraging him by pressing against him but a part of her couldn’t help wondering if that wasn’t what she needed.

“You want to get out of here?” the man asked her.

It took her a second too long to process the words and he must have interpreted that as consent because he grabbed her hand and she followed him.

Only to find their path blocked by Hayden as they were nearing the door.

“You’re not going anywhere with her.” her victor warned. “She’s drunk.”

“She doesn’t look drunk to me.” the guy frowned. “Are you drunk?”

The question was directed at her and she blinked. “I… don’t think so.”

She was sad. Perhaps sad was a sort of drunk.

“Like hell.” Hayden scoffed, placing a hand on her arm. “Come on, I’m taking you back to the penthouse.”

Her lack of reaction made the other man wary. “I don’t think she wants to go with you.”

“Too bad, I’m not asking for your opinion.” Twelve’s victor hissed.

The tension rose up a notch. They were very much blocking the door and it was starting to gather attention.

“What’s going on?” Haymitch asked, appearing suddenly next to his brother with his fake charming smile. It was strained though and his eyes lingered on her hand the man was still clasping. She let go as if the touch was burning.

“Nothing.” she said quickly before turning to the man. “I’m sorry, I _do_ think I am a bit tipsy.”

The man watched her for a second before studying her victors. “Are you sure you are safe with them?”

Both brothers bristled, clearly insulted, but Effie simply smiled and defused the situation with her usual poise – albeit a slightly drunk one – and reassured the man so he would leave.

“What was that about?” Haymitch frowned.

“Like you don’t know.” Hayden sneered.

Haymitch ignored him and watched her, his fingers twitched as if he was about to reach for her shoulder but, in the end, he didn’t move. “You’re okay, sweetheart?”

She wanted to get angry. She wanted to tell him he had no right to express concerns for her wellbeing after days of silence without an explanation as to what she had done wrong. They had agreed not to talk about what had happened, yes, but they had never agreed on never talking again _at all_.

Perhaps she _was_ drunk or perhaps the sadness pumped all her anger away, she didn’t answer and in the end, Hayden steered her away to the back entrance where the car was waiting. She rested her head on his shoulder as soon as they were safely inside the limo, hoping the trip to the Training Center wouldn’t take too long.

“Is it because of Haymitch or is there something else?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders so she could rest more comfortably against his chest. There was suppressed anger in his voice.

“It’s nothing, I’m just being silly.” she whispered.

“What did we say about the lying?” he grumbled.

That made her laugh. She should have fallen in love with Hayden, she mused, everything would have been easier if only her stupid heart had chosen Hayden. The thought was sobering. She had never put a label on her feelings before that night. She suspected she had  known for some time but she had never _ever_ admitted it in the privacy of her own mind. She was in love. And, boy, did it hurt.

“Do you ever wonder why everything is so complicated?” she sighed. “It used to be so simple before I became an escort…”

_Easy_ , was the right term.

It had been _easy_.

And now that her eyes were open…

“The Games take their toll on all of us after a while.” Hayden said carefully. “It’s not… If you feel you need to step down…”

And how would she explain she wanted to quit? She had the dream job, she had everything a thousand girls were ready to kill for. She _couldn’t_ quit. She couldn’t do _anything_ that would hint at dissident behavior on her part. She couldn’t risk it.

It would be easier if she managed to not get attached to the tributes but it was hard to take care of children for days on end and not to learn things, not to _care_. It was all in the details… How Vela liked her hair pinned up on her head because it was more practical, how Tenor pretended to be all tough and grouchy but was actually a nice insecure boy when you scratched below the surface…  

“No.” she denied. “I’m just drunk, never mind me.”

She hoped the car wasn’t bugged and if it was, she hoped no one was listening.

“Look… I can talk to Haymitch if…” he suggested.

“No.” she cut him off. “No, that’s not necessary.”

She burrowed a little more against his side, seeking his warmth. His arms tightened around her and his head dropped against the window.

“I saw Della yesterday.” he said out of the blue. “I didn’t talk to her. I turn around and run away like the coward I am.” She glanced up in time to see the self-derogatory smile on his lips. “I really liked her.”

“I’m sorry.” she said, closing her eyes and wishing the guilt away. “I was the one who introduced her to her fiancé.”

“I know. I figured you would want to prevent a scandal by pushing her away.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “But you didn’t force her to sleep with him or say she would marry him so I guess she wasn’t completely interested in me in the first place, right? I’m not exactly a catch, I suppose.”

“You _are_ a catch. Any woman would be lucky to have you.” she replied.

He heaved out a deep sigh. “At least Haymitch didn’t sleep with this one, I guess there’s that.”

“Don’t make it sound so…” She searched for a good word but couldn’t find one and, in the end, she just remained silent.

They were a pair, she mused, as the car finally reached the Training Center and her smile easily slid on her lips like a mechanical mask. It barely lasted long enough to reach the elevator. She was drunk and tired and she took off her heels before they had even reached the second floor.

She said goodnight and went straight to her room. She was sloppy with her nighttime ritual of removing make-up and applying creams to her beauty products abused skin but she could barely keep her eyes open when she crawled under her blankets.

She was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

And she woke up, she couldn’t say how long later, to an arm being wrapped around her waist.

“You’re drunk.” she accused. She could smell it, Haymitch was _reeking_ of liquor and smoke and a perfume that wasn’t hers. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You need a shower.”

“Wanted to check on you.” he mumbled against her nape.

“Yes?” she scoffed. “Since when? You haven’t bothered _looking_ at me in forever.”

He drew her closer to him and she fought it, whacking at the arm that was holding her.

“’Was trying to get it under control.” he slurred. “You aren’t making it easy, Princess… Strutting around in all those red skirts…”

“Red is in fashion, you uncultured swine.” she huffed.

“Red is a _bloody_ turn on.” he retorted, nuzzling her neck.

He didn’t try anything else though, he simply took a deep breath and she knew he would fall asleep if she let him.

“You are _not_ sleeping in my bed, Haymitch.” she hissed.

“You’re angry about her?” he asked. “It wasn’t… You know what it was.”

She _was_ angry. Simply not at him. Not for that at least.

“I didn’t think I could hate them more for _that_ but now it’s worse.” she murmured.

“Indoor talk.” he reminded her quietly. “You don’t have to be jealous, you know. I don’t enjoy it. You make me enjoy it.”

He must enjoyed it to some degree, she mused, but she understood what he meant or at least she thought she did. There was mechanical body response and there was… _pleasure_.

“We said one night.” she replied. “You can’t sleep in my bed, Haymitch.”

“I slept in your bed before I slept with you.” he pointed out in a flawless drunk logic. “We’re still friends, yeah?”

“Are we?” she sighed.

The only answer she got was a snore.

She could have shaken him awake or even pushed him out of her bed but in the end, she simply settled back down in a comfortable position and went back to sleep with his arm wrapped around her, all the while wondering how she would get out of this situation without having her heart smashed to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a heads up, since next week is Mockingjay week there won’t be an invictus udpate as I’m going to see the movie on Friday =)  
> I was really excited to share this chapter, I hope you liked it! Let me know!


	40. Chapter 40

Haymitch woke up to a warm body burrowed against his side and, after the instinctive second of panic, glanced down to see familiar blond curls spread on his chest. He looked back at the ceiling with a long disheartened sigh.

He didn’t remember much of the night before, everything was blurred by alcohol, he barely remembered coming back to the penthouse and giving in to the gnawing need to see her, to make sure she was alright because he had never seen her get drunk at a Games sponsored party before and he knew it was his fault. He had thought keeping his distances would help them both clear their mind. Obviously, that wasn’t working out.

He carefully slipped out of her bed, trying not to wake her up. He was in bad need of a shower. Not only because of what had happened before he came back to the penthouse the night before but because his slept-in clothes felt uncomfortable and were reeking of smoke and liquor fumes. He tucked the blankets to her chin before he left and brushed the blond curls away from her face.

He should just have let her go after the first year, he mused, before she insisted on befriending him and being all… _Effie_. She was difficult and stubborn and acted like such a spoiled brat sometimes but she was also caring and loving and so very loyal to her friends… And she was so, so very gorgeous he could see it even through the clownish make-up and the ridiculous dresses…  

He was in deep _shit_ and he didn’t know how to get out of it.

Clearly, he wasn’t in luck that day because he managed to get out of her room without her waking up but it was only to walk straight into his brother. Hayden was already dressed, hair still wet from his morning shower, a notepad black with his skinny handwriting in his hand. Haymitch wasn’t sure if he had been on his way to the living-room or to talk to Effie about a brand new idea for their tributes but he was _very_ sure that it didn’t matter because the second Hayden got over his surprise, he started glaring.

“ _Seriously_?” Hayden spat.

His voice triggered a nasty headache that made Haymitch winced.

“Not now, baby brother.” he muttered, trying to sidestep him. He would find an excuse later as to what he was doing in her room – or maybe he wouldn’t and he would watch Hayden shout until he was blue in the face.

Hayden grabbed his arm and pushed him against the wall in what wasn’t _in any way_ a gentle brotherly scuffle. He didn’t let go of his arm either and that all felt very much like a warning.

“You got what you wanted from her.” Hayden hissed. “Don’t screw her up.”

It was a shame Haymitch’s mouth tended to run without his brain’s consent.

“’Bit late for that.” he snorted.

Hayden’s jaw tensed and Haymitch automatically readied himself for the punch he was sure was coming. Yet, his brother had more restraint than that. His face shifted from anger to disappointment – something Haymitch was so used to seeing in his eyes he wasn’t sure why it still hurt so much.

“You had your fun, Haymitch. Once was enough.” Hayden said. “Don’t let her think she has a chance with you. We both know all you like is the thrill of the chase.”

Then they both knew very wrong, he mused, because what he liked was waking up next to her warm body, no expectation and no judgment.

“I love her.” Hayden continued. “She’s my best friend. And I _will_ hurt you if you make her miserable.”

“Are you giving me the brother talk?” he frowned. “I think you got it backwards, you know. You’re supposed to tell _her_.”

“ _Fuck you_ , Haymitch, this isn’t a joke!” Hayden whispered furiously, probably not to alarm anyone with raised voices so early in the morning.

He didn’t point out that his whole life felt like a joke, he didn’t think that would have been helpful at all, his head was throbbing and he could smell how much he reeked and he _really_ wanted that shower now. It was the best alternative to going back in her room and climbing into her bed again.

“She thinks you’re a good guy.” Hayden hissed, with forced calmness.

“And you don’t, yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” he sighed, tugging on the arm his brother was still gripping tentatively. He could have freed himself but that would have involved too much effort…

“To be honest, I don’t know anymore.” Hayden stated coldly. “I don’t know why you do what you do or why you’re so _different_ from before. I don’t know what you’re hiding from me, _if_ you’re hiding anything or if you’re just… _broken_. But I _do_ know in nineteen years I’ve watched you pick up too many women you tossed in the trash as soon as you were done with them and that won’t be Effie. _Don’t_ toy with her. You got what you wanted. Good for you. Now walk away before she gets attached.”

“Let go of my arm.” he demanded.

“Promise me you’re not going to screw her up.” his brother insisted. “If you want a quick fuck, schedule one of your special appointments, _don’t_ drag Effie into that. She’s better than that. She’s better than _you_.”

_That_ , he couldn’t dispute.

“She is.” he agreed easily. It had the merits of mollifying his brother who finally let go of his arm.

Hayden wrinkled his nose. “Go wash up. You stink.”

He was only too happy to obey that order. He remained in his room as long as possible after he had showered, making sure the tributes were gone and Hayden and Effie had left for their daily sponsors hunt before making his way to the dining room. His headache had abated slowly thanks to pills but he wasn’t very hungry. Still, he forced himself to munch on a piece of toast, wondering what to do with his day. He wasn’t good at having too much time on his hands, it made him think and thinking always lead back to revisiting his own personal hell.

Fortunately, he was spared that sentence by the timely arrival of Finnick who showed up with a spiral-bound notebook and a list of questions as long as the arm. _How to do this and that… What was the best approach to this… How did he go about doing that_ …

Finnick listened to everything, took notes when he felt he needed to and never once questioned his methods. It was probably telling that Haymitch enjoyed the way the boy was looking at him : with respect and admiration that were often coupled with a little bit of teasing. Finnick watched him like Hayden used to do way before their respective arenas had changed everything. Finnick watched him like a little brother and Haymitch couldn’t deny him anything because he was yearning for that lost connection.

So, perhaps, the few pointers he was supposed to give Finnick turned into more detailed discussions but Haymitch shot his guilt down. Twelve’s or Four’s, the tributes were still kids so if he could help somewhere…

“You’re losing grip.” Chaff told him later, on Eleven’s floor, once Haymitch had fled the manners lesson Effie was giving the girl tribute in the penthouse’s living room. “Helping the kid out is alright but you’re _advising_ him on what to do with his tributes. Tributes that will go against yours.”

“I know.” he sighed, rubbing his face. “But I told Mags I would take care of the boy.”

“Look.” his friend went on, pushing a glass of whiskey in his hand and flopping on the couch to pour himself a drink. “He’s not Hayden.”

“Are you trying crap psychology on me?” Haymitch sneered. “I know he’s not Hayden, that’s not…”

“You like the kid and you miss what you used to have with your brother. I get it.” Chaff cut in. “But don’t mix everything. I’m your friend, I give you advices and I kick your ass when you need it. Not once did I ever tell you anything _specific_ about the way to handle your tributes. Mags never did that for me either so I can tell you she _definitely_ doesn’t expect you to do it for Finnick. Be there for the kid, don’t do his job.”

There was wisdom in that advice and Haymitch was clever enough to accept it with a nod. He had gone too far in his coaching probably, he had gotten caught up, had enjoyed showing off his brain for once. When Hayden and Effie found out – and they _would_ find out – it would end up in a hell of a fight.

“Okay.” Chaff said, still stern and so far from his usual easy nature. “Now can we talk about the real problem here?”

“What real problem?” Haymitch deflected. “There’s nothing…”

“Haymitch, I swear to god, I’m going to kick your ass all the way to the moon if you tell me again that you’re _fine_.” Eleven’s victor growled. “You’re _brooding_. You’re drinking twice as much as usual – and _that’s_ saying something – and you look like someone just kicked your favorite puppy. What’s going on?”

“I don’t need a pep talk.” he scoffed.

“Good.” Chaff said, sharper than usual. “That’s not a pep talk, that’s _keep your bloody wits together_ _before you get yourself in trouble_ talk. Now, _what_ ’s the problem?”

“Aside for the people I killed, the nightmares every night, being sold to strangers with grabby hands and the fact my brother hates my guts?” he joked, casually taking a sip from his glass.

“Yeah. Aside for that.” his friend replied, placing his untouched drink on the coffee table. “Besides, that last part is up to you. If you just told Hayden…”

“So he can look at me with pity instead of disgust? Or both?” he scowled. “I don’t think so.”

“Pretty sure you’re underestimating that kid.” Chaff shrugged.

“He’s not a kid anymore. He likes to remind me, see.” Haymitch laughed. “Well… When he’s talking to me that is.”

And he wasn’t talking to him much anymore.

And since he, himself, wasn’t talking much to Effie, he felt isolated. It wasn’t funny to see Effie joking and laughing with his brother while he watched from the sidelines – by a self imposed restriction, yes, but it was the only logical course of action he could think of – and he didn’t know who he was jealous of. Both probably.

Chaff knew him too well.

“Not so much a onetime thing, was it?” Eleven’s mentor asked quietly.

Haymitch shrugged, faking a detachment he didn’t feel and taking another sip of whiskey to hide behind his glass if only for a second.

“And what?” Chaff frowned. “She’s not interested anymore?”

“She thinks it wouldn’t be clever to get involved.” he explained, low enough that he hoped the bugs wouldn’t pick it – not that they had any reason to care about what he was talking about as long as he showed up when his next _special appointment_ rolled around. “And she’s clever. Right, too. She’s better off without me.”

His friend let out a long suffering sigh.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought…” Chaff said, grabbing his drink back and downing it in one go. “It’s just like with your brother. You’re making everything more complicated than it should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaff is the voice of reason isn't he? What do you think? Let me know!


	41. Chapter 41

“He should just go ahead and adopt him.” Hayden snorted. “I bet Mama would be thrilled.”

Effie barely spared a glance in the direction her victor was looking in. The interviews’ back stage was as packed and chaotic as ever and she didn’t have time to wonder what Haymitch was playing at. He was standing in Four’s reserved corner, talking with Finnick, a frown on his face, and Effie had absolutely no idea what was going on because he might have slept in her bed a few days earlier but he still wasn’t talking to her aside for small talk – when he could be bothered to even do that.

“Alright, dear, do you remember everything?” she asked, focusing on her tributes instead.

The girl was a masterpiece if Effie could say so herself. She had gone over the stylist’ head, ordering the dress herself, instructing the prep team into what exactly to do with her silky dark hair and watching them like hawks while they did her make-up. Vela would turn heads that night, she just knew it, the girl would be their key to get sponsors.

“Yes.” Vela nodded with confidence. She smiled and batted her eyelashes just like Effie had taught her. Pretty and enticing. _Perfect_.

The boy looked good enough too. The suit was clearly making him uncomfortable, he kept sliding a finger between the collar and his neck to loosen up the tie, but he was otherwise making an effort and he should do just fine. She wished them both luck and then grabbed Hayden’s arm with enthusiasm as they joined their assigned seats in the audience.

“This year, we win.” she told him.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” he reminded her.

“The plan is _perfect_.” Effie insisted with a gleeful smile. “People will fight to sponsor Vela and since they’re allied we can use the money for both. We are going to win.”

“Being unreasonable again?” Haymitch snorted, taking the seat next to her.

“I am _not_ being unreasonable.” she huffed. “I am being optimistic and both of you should learn a leaf from my book.”

“Sure.” they both replied at once. They exchanged an amused glance but soon looked away with a frown as if acting friendly and conniving was now so foreign they didn’t know how to handle it.

Effie swallowed back her sigh and settled to watch the interviews. The Careers were all very impressive but not really likeable which suited Effie well. They would attract their usual crowd of sponsors who liked a fighter but wouldn’t touch the group of sponsors who liked _personalities_ rather than gorillas who could wave axes and swords around. Those rarely won. All the Careers who had won had something else, a unique spark : a sassy personality or an unchecked thirst for blood, something that distinguished them from the others who simply wanted to _win_. The boy from Three was a smooth talker and triggered more than one laugh during his allotted five minutes. Effie took note, he would attract sponsors. The two tributes from Four did very well, mentioning their mentor in their speech so the camera would revert to Finnick – which, of course, made a show of winking and blowing them a kiss – making sure the audience would connect the two in their mind, and she was sure he would be covered in offers before he left the auditorium.

“Is he mentoring on his own?” she whispered to Haymitch. “They both named him as their mentor…”

“Yeah.” he answered. “Shella’s useless.”

She would have left it at that but Hayden leaned over her to talk to his brother. “How much of _that_ was your idea?”

Effie frowned, not understanding what exactly he was accusing Haymitch of. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he used to do that all the time when he first won.” Hayden hissed in an annoyed whisper. “Make the tributes name him during the interview so the audience would link them together and he could get the money. Not that it ever worked really well but that’s _Haymitch’s_ trick. First thing he taught me when I started mentoring.”

Instead of defending himself, Haymitch cringed.

“You _helped_ them?” Effie gasped, a little too loud. She was shushed by several people and Eleven’s team, who was sitting nearby, shot them odd glances. She wasn’t sure but she thought she saw Chaff mouthing _Told you_ to Haymitch. She glared at him in a fashion that, she hoped, would let him know he hadn’t heard the end of it.

She watched the rest of the interviews simmering in her anger and feelings of betrayal. Tenor did well but the audience was bored and he only got lukewarm applauses. Vela, on the other hand, did just as well as Effie expected. She was the perfect balance between innocent and desirable, she talked very well and she was even funny. People clapped for her and there were a few whispers of appreciation once she was gone.

Effie took Hayden’s arm and forcefully dragged him backstage once it was over, certain he would pick a fight with Haymitch if she let them. So instead of allowing that to happen, she told him to focus on the children – not that he needed the reminder – and they were both all smiles and compliments when they reached them. Even Haymitch who, for some reason, had trailed behind said they had done a good job – which warranted him a glare from Effie and an annoyed glance from Hayden.

Goodbyes that night were just as difficult as she had expected. She hugged them both with a bright smile and a thousand reassurances than one of them would win. Hayden hugged them too with a series of last advices and Haymitch simply reminded them to stay away from the Cornucopia.

It wasn’t until the tributes were both gone to bed that Hayden and Effie turned around to confront Haymitch. She had been expecting Hayden to fire first but he simply looked at his brother and threw his hands in the air.

“I can’t do that right now.” he spat. “I don’t even _want_ to do that. A word for the wise, don’t bother, Effie.”

He walked out, leaving them to stare at each other.

“Finnick wanted some advices.” Haymitch sighed. “Mags was gone and…”

“And so you thought it was alright to… To do _what_? Mentor Four’s tributes when you can’t bother to properly care for your own?” she hissed. “You _betrayed_ us. You sneaked behind our backs and helped another team! You…”

“It’s Finnick, not a stranger.” he argued. “You helped him too before.”

He was making a beeline for the liquor cart in the corner of the room – as usual when uncomfortable, liquor was his first solution. She reached it at the same time he did and grabbed his wrist to stop him from pouring himself a glass.

“I helped with _you know what_. I _didn’t_ help him work against Twelve.” she retorted.

“It’s not a big deal.” he snorted.

“It _is_ a big deal.” she scowled.

“Let go.” he grumbled, tugging on his arm.

“Absolutely not. You are _not_ getting wasted to avoid a conversation.” she snapped.

He turned to face her then, all anger and aggravation and a shiver trailed down her spine. It wasn’t fear, she knew he would never hurt her. It was something else entirely. They were breathing fast and they were standing very close. She let go of his wrist at the exact same time he reached for her.

She didn’t exactly know how it happened or why – her mind was so clouded by lust and she was _so_ furious with him – but soon, she was pinned to the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands buried in his hair and they were kissing – _if_ that could be called kissing because it was brutal and angry and almost _punishing_.

She had missed him. _So much_.

“Not here.” She had enough presence of mind to say when he started unbuckling his belt. The living-room was _not_ a good choice for that kind of activities – _nowhere_ was a good choice for that kind of activities really because that kind of activities wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.

She knew he must have been just as angry as she was for whatever reason because his grip on her hand was almost painful when he dragged her to his room and there was nothing gentle when he pushed her against the closed door. It suited her just fine because it meant she could push back.

She had never really seen the appeal of rough sex before but when he tossed her on the bed and pinned her to the mattress with his body, she could see it in Technicolor. He was angry but not careless and she trusted him just as much as he trusted her. She didn’t know who was trying to punish whom but her climax hit her quickly and embarrassingly hard. It made him snort because he was still thrusting, still far from being ready to reach his own release. She didn’t appreciate the snort at all and she made it known by pushing him on his back and getting on top, slowing down the pace he had kept so fast and rough until then.

“That’s cheating, sweetheart.” he growled.

“You would know.” she snapped. “Since you are apparently an expert in the field.”

Something flashed briefly in his eyes before he closed them when she changed angle.

“Still talking about me helping Four?” he asked, out of breath.

“Yes. What else?” she frowned although she was quickly losing interest in the conversation. She was feeling another orgasm building.

He pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around her. The new position made her moan which, in turn, made him smirk which, of course, made her annoyed.

“Finnick needed my help. Hayden doesn’t.” he panted. “And he doesn’t want it anyway.”

She bit his shoulder to muffle another moan. “Can we not discuss Finnick and your brother when we are having intercourses?”

“ _Intercourses_.” he chuckled in her ear. “You do know how to talk dirty, don’t you, Princess?”

“Alright.” she hissed. “Don’t talk about Finnick or your brother when we are _fucking_. Is that better? Why are you even _thinking_ when we are _fucking_ , Haymitch? Clearly, I’m doing something wrong.”

She picked up the pace and proceeded to transform his brain into a mushy thing unable of coherent thought.

Afterward, when her body felt so limp she had the distinct impression of being a rag doll and she couldn’t bother to roll away from his chest even though she knew she must have been heavy, she sighed. “I’m still angry.”

“Good. Me too.” he replied.

“Why would _you_ be angry with me? I have done absolutely nothing wrong.” she scoffed. “I certainly didn’t help another District team.”

“I just gave him a few advices. He did the rest on his own.” Haymitch snapped with irritation. “Stop being a bitch about this. Finnick asked for help, I was supposed to say no? You know how he is… He has _bloody_ puppy eyes.” He shrugged, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. She wasn’t sure he even tried. “And anyway, Hayden does a good job with our kids. The only thing I have to do is go on TV with you. I don’t have many appointments anymore, that leaves me with a lot of free time. You know what I want to do when I’m on my own with nothing to do? I want to get wasted, Effie, and I’m _fucking_ trying not to go down that road.”

She pursed her lips. “If you wanted to help mentor, Hayden would…”

“No.” he said. “Yeah, he would let me but then what? I get a kid, he gets one and eventually our kids become rivals. What do you think that will do to us?” He heaved out a long sigh. “Plus, the mentoring is his thing. He’s good at it. I took too much away from him already.”

“Haymitch, helping Four is _not_ a solution. I can guarantee that won’t help your relationship with your brother.” she argued “If anything…”

“I know.” he interrupted. “But I can’t let Finnick down.” She heard what he didn’t say. He couldn’t let Finnick down like he had Hayden. “I told him I had helped too much. I won’t do it again.”

“Why are you angry with me?” she asked after a few seconds. It bugged her. She had done _nothing_ that would warrant his resentment. She had kept his secrets, she had played the game the way he wanted to… If anyone truly had to be angry at someone else…

It took so long for him to answer she was sure he had gone to sleep.

“’Cause I want you.” he said quietly.

And he shouldn’t, she understood, not only because it wasn’t smart but because she was Capitol and everything he should hate. But they were friends and… _more_ and he didn’t hate her and this thing between them was so _damn_ complicated it made her head hurt just to try to unravel it.

“It would be better to cut it off now.” she whispered. “It would be less… painful.”

In theory.

In practice, she wasn’t sure.

“Yeah.” he agreed.

She should have picked up her clothes and left. It would have been a good place to start. Instead, she let herself fall asleep on his chest.

Haymitch didn’t have an alarm but she was still up bright and early if only because she had kept dreaming about lost tributes that night. She sneaked out of his room and into her own and carefully composed herself a brand new joyful face with make-up. White foundation and the right amount of lipstick did wonders.

Hayden was already having breakfast when she walked in the dining-room. They didn’t talk much, too focused on the upcoming day ahead and their respective need for at least a full cup of coffee before being ready to face the world.

It wasn’t until they were in the Games Headquarters with everyone else to watch the launch that Hayden commented, casually, that she wasn’t very good at sneaking around either.

Panem’s seal appeared on the screen before she could respond and then there were more urgent things to worry about.

The arena was a desert, the classic kind with a lot of sand, no water point or even ground. There were no weapons at the Cornucopia, no food, only tins upon tins of water.

“ _Fuck_.” Hayden spat under his breath.

“Language.” she chided him but she had seen it too : the look Vela and Tenor had shared. The surrounding desert had thrown them and now they were panicking. _Find water_ had been the first thing Hayden had told them, the thing Haymitch had repeated each time he could. “No, no, no…” she muttered under her breath. “Stick to the plan. Stick to the…”

When the countdown reached zero, their tributes made a dash for the Cornucopia.

Vela was tackled midway there by the female tribute from Two. Her neck was snapped clean.

“No.” Effie hissed, her sigh briefly blurred by tears she quickly blinked back.

Tenor saw what happened and, at least, doubled back. Away from the bloodbath.

Still, Effie mused, not only had they lost their tribute, they had also lost their only asset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Next chapter will see some action. I know a lot of you are annoyed with Hayden and it's frustrating but... He is trapped in a not so good situation too because to him Haymitch is just acting like an asshole so bear with me a little longer. Hayden needs to get out from Haymitch's shadow and become his own man but that won't happen overnight. I think we will take a step toward that next week.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Let me know!


	42. Chapter 42

Effie watched the boy from Four thrusting a makeshift spear in Tenor’s side with a gasp.

“Fuck.” Haymitch spat from the couch.

On the giant screen of the penthouse’s living-room, Tenor’s legs buckled and he collapsed on his back. The boy from Four, barely thirteen, softened his fall as if by reflex, his brown eyes wide and terrified.

Effie had only swung back to the penthouse for a change of shoes. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. Hayden was waiting for her downstairs, trying to convince sponsors that their boy had a chance, that he had survived a whole day when others had died, that he could make it, and now…

“Did you…” she whispered, unable to even finish the question.

“ _No_.” Haymitch snapped, glancing at her. He didn’t like what he saw, she could tell. He stood up and walked to her, invading her space in three long strides. “Seriously, _you_ need to ask if I send a kid to kill our tribute? _You_? Who picked that boy’s name, sweetheart? Was it me?” he sneered.

“ _Don’t_.” she hissed. “I just…”

It might have been a coincidence but it wouldn’t help the already tensed atmosphere in the penthouse. Tenor’s death wasn’t a kind one. He was clinging to Four’s tribute forearms, clawing at his sunburned skin, blood trickling from his lips and the other boy was staying there, petrified, horror struck.

“He should finish him.” Haymitch said quietly, following her gaze. Faced with her sickened expression, he scowled defensively. “Mercy kill. There’s no point in making it last. Only Enobaria and her kind make it last.”

As it was, the boy from Four didn’t have time to recover. He never saw the danger coming from behind him. The girl from Seven, stealthy on her feet, sneaked behind him and snapped his neck just as the elevator chime announced Hayden’s return. By the time a booming _“You son of a bitch!_ ” echoed throughout the penthouse, she had grabbed the spear and stabbed it into Tenor’s heart. When Hayden appeared in the living-room, the girl was walking away, leaving two warm corpses at the foot of the sand dune.

“You _son of a bitch_!” Hayden repeated, pointing an accusing finger at Haymitch. “ _You_ did this.”

“ _Language_.” Effie called out instinctively. “And really, there is no need for this, Hayden. This is all…”

“We had a shot!” Hayden continued, striding closer and closer to Haymitch. Effie was afraid of what would happen when he would reach him so she swiftly stepped between them, placing a restricting hand on Hayden’s chest.

“Calm down.” she begged. “I know you are upset but…”

“ _Damn_ right I’m upset!” he roared. “We had a _fucking_ shot and he had to go and tell his new little minion to screw it up! That _bloody_ peacock…”

“Finnick has _nothing_ to do with this.” Effie cut him off.

She had no idea what Haymitch was doing since she was turning her back on him but Hayden’s glaring only deepened.

“No, you’re right.” he snorted. “It’s _all_ Haymitch. So, I’m curious… What was it that made you help Four when you can’t move your lazy ass to help _me_? Ah yeah… _Odair_. He’s the perfect little brother, yeah? All you ever wanted in one arrogant _prick_ package.”

Effie added her other hand to his chest because he kept pushing and she was very sure she wouldn’t be able to play the human buffer very much longer.

“Tempers are running high. It’s perfectly understandable.” she said with desperation. “If we all just sat down like civilized people and…”

“You’re done?” Haymitch asked, completely calm.

Hayden’s face hardened, his scowl quickly turning into a warning. “Don’t you dare use that tone.”

“Please.” Effie insisted. Her hands were getting clammy with nerves and her heart was racing in her chest. “ _Please_. Hayden, he isn’t taking _any_ tone.” Although he _was_. He was talking exactly like one would have addressed a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “And Haymitch, just… Just go away for a little while, yes? A bit of fresh air…”

“Sweetheart, shut up.” Haymitch said, without any real heat.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Hayden growled. For all his recurrent statements that he wasn’t a real victor, Hayden _was_ strong and fast when he wanted to be. She was pushed aside – gently but firmly – and could only watch from the sideline as he walked right on to his brother. “Don’t you _dare_ talk to her like that.”

“I can’t talk to her, I can’t talk to you…” Haymitch snorted. “Who can I talk to?”

“What’s your _fucking_ problem?” Hayden shouted with such anger that she just knew they weren’t talking about those Games anymore. “You _always_ screw up everything for me. _Always_.”

“What are we talking about now?” Haymitch sneered. “Your escort girlfriend again?”

“ _Everything!_ ” Hayden shot back, pushing him.

Haymitch wasn’t ready for the physical assault and he stumbled backward, barely managing not to trip, a look of surprise – and maybe shock – on his face.

“ _Stop this at once!_ ” Effie shrieked. For the effect it had, she could had just remained silent.

The two men were staring at each other now. Hayden was panting hard, looking a bit disbelieving – perhaps he didn’t know what to do with all the pent-up anger, perhaps he hadn’t meant to push Haymitch, she wasn’t sure.

“You always screw up everything for me.” the junior victor repeated. “You always have to meddle. You always have to…”

“Because I know better than you.” Haymitch snapped. “ _I know better_. I don’t care if you’re fourteen or thirty, you’re _my_ responsibility. I won’t let you…”

“You’re not my dad.” Hayden spat, effectively interrupting him.

Effie brought a hand to her face, brushing the tip of her fingers against her brow, unsure if she was trying to shield herself from the upcoming onslaught of buried problems or if she was embarrassed for witnessing a conversation that was obviously a private family matter.

There was a long moment of silence.

She didn’t dare look up.

“Cat got your tongue?” Hayden laughed but it was a hollow sort of laugh, desperate and exhausted. “Haymitch Abernathy speechless, now that’s a first. Quick, Effie, call the press!”

“Don’t go there.” Haymitch warned quietly.

“Why not?” his brother asked, lifting his arms wide and letting them fall back to his side. “’Cause I can see the likeness, you know…”

“ _Don’t_ go there, Hayden.” he growled.

There was a new sort of tension in Haymitch’s voice, something Effie had never heard until then. It was different from the emotions she was familiar with when he was talking about the special appointments or his relationship with his family. There was a crack in the armor.

Hayden saw it and, like a true victor, he took advantage of it.

“He would be _so_ proud of you… The son he dreamt about…” Hayden chuckled. “A drunkard skirts chaser… You’re just like him, aren’t you?”

Effie had been dreading Hayden trying to hit Haymitch. At no point in time did she thought the opposite could happen.

Still, she screamed when Haymitch punched him.

“ _Stop_!” she ordered uselessly when Hayden tackled him and they collapsed in a heap of flying limbs on the polished floor. She couldn’t say who had the upper hand, Hayden was hitting Haymitch but Haymitch had Hayden’s hair in a tight grip. She called for them to stop again and again, threatening to get Peacekeepers if they didn’t obey but either they didn’t hear or they didn’t care.

In any case, it seemed she had to take control of the situation one way or another.

She spied the bucket full of ice, took the champagne bottle out and tossed the content at them like one would on two stray cats having a row. Freezing water and chump of ice did wonders, they both stopped, stunned, to glare at her.

“Up.” she hissed. “ _Now_.”

She could see the damages already. Hayden would sport a shiner and Haymitch’s face was bloodied.

“I think you broke my nose.” he grumbled as they scrambled to their feet.

“I can make sure if you like.” Hayden snapped.

“ _Quiet_. Both of you.” Effie’s voice sounded thunderous even to her own ears. “Are you proud of yourself? Kill each other if that’s what you want to do but do it elsewhere than in my penthouse. I won’t be held accountable for your stupidity.”

On that note, she turned on her heels and left, too annoyed to deal with them. They behaved like children and she had half a mind to simply treat them as such. She should call their mother and let her deal with the mess, they would be less cocky then.

She stormed to her room – it was only thanks to her mother’s strict upbringing that she didn’t _slam_ the door shut – grabbed her pillow and muffled a scream. She felt better once that was out. The pillowcase, now stained with make-up, obviously didn’t.

She remained sitting on her bed for a while, wavering between switching clothes to find a party to drown her sorrow and running herself a bath. Her mind kept replaying the fight in her head with Tenor’s death as intermission…

She wasn’t surprised when the door opened without a knock but she could say she was relieved if only for the distraction. Not that she would let him know that…

She glared at him. “I strongly suggest you go away, Haymitch.” He had made an effort to clean himself up but he was still clutching a bloodied handkerchief to his nose. “If you need medical help, go to the clinic or call a doctor.”

She didn’t even _care_ about the scandal it would cause.

“’Don’t think it’s broken.” he mumbled, there was a twang to his voice.

“Do I look like I care?” she replied, standing up and heading to her bathroom. Anyone else would have taken the hint and left but Haymitch being Haymitch, of course, _didn’t_. He watched her pick up bottle of bubble bath after bottle of bubble bath and put them back down again, unable to choose one, with an uncertain look on his face. He was breathing through his mouth and looked in pain and, in the end, she snapped. “Sit down.”

She must have been a sight because he flopped down on the edge of the bathtub without any argument. He didn’t even protest when she looked at his swollen nose with a cringe – there was a reason she had never been tempted to go into the medical field, she was squeamish. The bleeding had stopped so she pushed his dirty handkerchief away, grabbed a clean towel and started dabbing at the wound’s area to clean the dry blood, cringing all the while with disgust.

She would have a field day explaining _that_ to Caesar when he would want to schedule the losing Districts’ interviews.

“I warned you this would happen, did I not?” she hissed. “I _told_ you helping Four would be a problem. Hayden thinks you like Finnick more than you like him. He thinks you want to _replace_ him. Now, you know I love the boy dearly – that poor, _poor_ boy – but there was absolutely _no_ need to get _that_ involved with Four. Truly, you…”

“We weren’t fighting about Finnick.” he cut her off.

She huffed and puffed and put too much pressure on the wound with her towel and he groaned in pain.

“Well, yes.” she snapped. “Obviously you didn’t like being compared to your father but…”

“Don’t talk about my dad.” he interrupted again, a note of warning in his voice. The tension slowly edged away from his face when he wrapped a hand around her thigh and gently nudged her closer. “We weren’t fighting about him either anyway.”

“Excuse me.” she scoffed. “I was there. I…”

“Effie.” he said quietly. “We weren’t fighting about them.”

“What _were_ you fighting about then?” she frowned but just when the question passed her lips, she had her answer. “ _Oh_.”

He stood up, very much in her space, and the towel slipped from her hand. His fingers brushed her cheek tentatively.

“Fuck being clever.” he whispered – she didn’t know if that was because of eventual spying devices or because he was scared of his own offer. “I want you. That’s not going away.”

He leaned in to kiss her but she stepped back abruptly. His hand dropped in the space between them and she licked her lips nervously.

“Livia is retiring, she offered to recommend me for the position as Six’s escort and I’m certain Seneca will approve the transfer once he is named Head Gamemaker.” The words rushed out of her mouth, quick and harsh. “I didn’t accept yet but I think I will. All we need is distance and space and…”

“You’re leaving?” he scorned, baffled. “After _everything,_ you’re _leaving_?”

“I’m thirty, this is probably one of my last chances to get a promotion.” she replied, trying to expose the logical arguments she had been rehearsing ever since Livia had talked to her about the possibility of a transfer. “And Six wins sometimes, Haymitch. Children don’t always die in that District.”

His grey eyes were hardening. She could see the walls closing in around himself in an effort to protect what was left of his feelings and she did her best to keep her own eyes from watering.

“Please, try to understand…” she begged. “I am not sure how much longer I can bear it. I haven’t accepted yet, I am just considering it but… It’s an opportunity and my career…”

“And us?” he asked.

She looked down, down at her feet, down at her expensive pink shoes like a lady should never do, like her mother had scolded her for a thousand times.

“There is no _us_.” she murmured. “How could there be? This has no future, Haymitch. This has no…” She sighed. “This was a mistake. You know it was.”

“Yeah.” he snickered and his chuckles were dark and pained. “Yeah, it was. Good luck in Six.”

He walked out. She reached out for him but he didn’t notice, he was looking straight ahead, a tortured look in his eyes and it killed her to know she had caused it.

She sat down with her back to the bathtub and she pressed her face in her hands, willing herself not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... It has been leading to this for a while now... What do you think? Let me know!


	43. Chapter 43

Haymitch knocked once on the open door but didn’t quite dare step in his brother’s room. Hayden glanced at him but didn’t stop his packing, tossing clothes in his bag without bothering with folding. His train was due to depart in two hours but his brother always kept the packing for the last minute, like him.

Haymitch hadn’t seen him since the previous day but Hayden was now sporting a nice dark blue with purple hues shiner on his left eye.

“What do you want?” his brother spat.

“To talk.” Haymitch offered. “To patch things up.”

Hayden snorted once and then pulled the zipper of his bag, struggling to close it at first but succeeding after a few seconds. “There’s a point when you _can’t_ patch things up anymore, Haymitch. It’s called _too few too late_ and you walked past it several years ago.”

“Hayden…” he growled, annoyed.

He was making the first step and his brother wasn’t making it easy. To complicate matters, he had a serious hangover, he couldn’t quite shake out the feeling of crushing despair and he was so very tired of everything he was very tempted to just lie down somewhere and wait for the end.

“What?” his brother snapped. “You got something to say, you say it. I have a train to catch.”

There were a million things he could have said at that moment.

At least ten different conversations he had with Chaff flashed back through his mind and he was tempted, _very_ tempted to listen to his best friend and simply come clean. He could have, he thought. He could have sat at the foot of Hayden’s bed, stare at the carpet and just spit it out : _special appointments_ wasn’t a code word for victors visiting prostitutes but for victor _being_ whored out. He could have said : _everything I did, I did to protect you_. He could have said : _I don’t want to screw Effie up but I think she did screw me up a bit because she’s leaving and I feel like something was ripped out of my chest_. He would never have said that last part aloud, of course, but perhaps he could have implied it and perhaps Hayden would have gotten it because they used to be good at that : talking without words.

He did none of that.

His head was empty and his heart was aching.

He remained silent a little too long.

“That’s what I thought.” Hayden sighed, flinging his backpack on his shoulder.

Haymitch grabbed his arm when he walked past him, trying not to care about his brother’s instinctive flinch.

“I never asked Four to attack our tributes.” he said even though that was unnecessary. He didn’t even think Hayden believed that for more than one fleeting second.

“I know.” Hayden shrugged, getting rid of his hand in the process. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“There are a lot of things you shouldn’t have said.” Haymitch replied, his voice thick with reproaches. “Dad is off-limit. He’s a piece of _shit_.”

“Maybe that should make you think then, no?” his brother pointed out. “’Cause you’re going the same road and it isn’t a pretty one. I don’t know you anymore and the guy you’re becoming? I’m not sure I want to know him.”

Haymitch forced himself to keep his temper in check. One shiner was enough, he told himself, he couldn’t make an habit of hitting his brother when he was getting frustrated.

“You give a kiss to Mama for me.” he instructed Hayden. “I will be back in a few days.”

“Alright.” Hayden nodded. He started walking again but stopped and turned back after a few seconds. “Don’t hurt Effie once I’m gone.”

“No danger of that.” he chuckled with amused bitterness. “She dumped me.”

A small relieved smile played on his brother’s lips. “Clever girl.”

“Yeah.” Haymitch snickered. “Clever girl…”

Clever enough to avoid him all night and all morning in any case.

“Hayden, are we good?” he called at his brother’s retreating back. He _needed_ to know.

Hayden paused and then shrugged. “We’re basically strangers. You tell me if that’s good or not.”

Haymitch had nothing to reply to that. Instead of going to the station to see his brother off like he did every year, he crashed on the couch of Eleven’s team and watched Seeder and Chaff plan and confer about their remaining female tribute who was quickly dying of thirst in that desert. They had no time to spare for him but Chaff kept him well-supplied in liquor until the girl finally died and he hoarded it all to himself, claiming Haymitch had drunk enough anyway.

Seeder studied Twelve’s victor for a few seconds and then rolled her eyes. “Broken heart?”

“He will get over it.” Chaff promised, patting his shoulder with his lump. “Right, man?”

There was a touch of worry in his friend’s voice, as if he wasn’t quite convinced that _this_ wouldn’t be the last straw that would send him over the edge.

“Yeah.” he mumbled, wishing he could stop imagining Effie’s perfume.

“Did she also break your nose?” Seeder insisted, a teasing grin on her lips.

“Not broken.” Haymitch denied, even though it was tender to the touch and he was sure he would keep a bump on it. “That was Hayden.”

“What did I say about you making everything much more complicated than it should be?” Chaff sighed.

“Shut up.” Haymitch spat.

“Ah, come on now, Haymitch…” Seeder cooed gently, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It can’t get worse.”

He almost wanted to laugh at that joke.

°O°O°O°

The car trip to the train station was mostly silent and for the second year in a row, it was uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Hayden said at last. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

The fight… Effie had dreamt about it that night, about everything that could have gone wrong… Ever since she had started working for the Games, she had realized just how easy death was, how _stupid._ Haymitch could have punched him just that little bit too hard, Hayden could have pushed his brother too far and his head could have hit the corner of the coffee table… There were a thousand things that could have gone wrong and she supposed they were lucky to have escaped with a swollen eye and a bruised nose.

“Haymitch said you dumped him.” he continued. “Smart choice.”

Was it? She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that too. _Fuck being clever_ , he had said but being clever was all they had against the Capitol. She saw it now. _He_ was the one who had opened her eyes to the government’s rotten core… _He_ was the one who had taught her to be prudent with her words and her actions… _He_ was the one who had let her known just how easily she could be replaced, how unimportant she was in the grand scheme of things… And, yes, now that she knew, she was afraid. She was terrified of ending up like those people who mysteriously disappeared one night because they had said the wrong thing to the wrong person. It was safer to be the perfect little drone – or to at least pretend she was, even though pretending became harder and harder every year – and that wouldn’t be helped by having to hide a relationship with him.

What sort of relationship would they even be able to have? Haymitch visited the Capitol about a month every year, two if he attended the Victory Tour in the city – but he wasn’t requested to come anymore and she would never ask him to do it knowing what it implied – what kind of relationship could they build on those grounds? They never phoned. She called the house, she talked to Hayden for hours, she talked to Iris sometimes but Haymitch never took the calls, never once said he wanted to say hello.

If it had been just a sexual arrangement, it would have been easier. She had been in no strings attached relationships before, casual sex was just that and held no expectations. However, whatever she and Haymitch shared wasn’t solely about sex. It was deeper, a lot more meaningful.

“I’ve had an offer from Six.” she said quietly. “I’m thinking about accepting.”

She needed to tell Hayden and she owed it to him not to do it on the phone. They were friends not just colleagues, it wouldn’t have been fair to wait.

He didn’t look surprised, just sad, but he forced a smile. “Any chance it has anything to do with Haymitch? Because I would kick him off the team to keep you.”

It made her smile but there was a lump in her throat. Truth be told, as golden as the prospect of moving up Districts was, it made her wary. She had her habits in Twelve, she and Hayden – and Haymitch when he consented to help – were a well-oiled team by now. She knew nothing about Six’s victors. They tended to keep to themselves and looked drugged most of the time. Livia had warned her that the biggest part of the work would fall on her shoulders but Effie wasn’t afraid of that, she was afraid of being alone without a friend to support her through the hard times. Livia was the only true friend she had within the escorts staff, she didn’t trust the others and next year, whatever happened, she would be on her own. So if she accepted the offer and became Six’s escort, it would also made her Twelve’s enemy which would make her friendship with her current victors complicated.

Still, she couldn’t shake off the thought that it was time to move on, that all she needed to forget Haymitch was some distance. She had become too invested, not just with him but with the whole Games – Livia had warned against that her very first year.

“Don’t be too harsh with him.” she requested. “I know there is a lot of resentment on your part but you don’t know the whole story.”

“Do you?” Hayden asked, direct as ever.

She looked away, unwilling to lie to him again on that point. “I can’t tell you.”

“He’s full of bullshit, you know.” he snorted. “Are you sure he didn’t spin a tale only to…” His voice trailed off but she heard what he didn’t say all the same.

“Sleep with me?” she finished. “He didn’t need to spin a tale for that. Trust me when I say he loves you and whatever he does, it _is_ for you.”

He studied her for a while and then shrugged. “He’s a controlling ass.”

“For good reasons.” she argued.

“What reasons?” he frowned.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him everything. It was getting ridiculous. That big secret was hanging over all of their heads and when it would finally blow up, she was certain it would leave them all in pieces.

“He’s not a bad man.” she argued, clasping his hand and squeezing softly. “Please, believe me.”

“He’s not a bad man but he doesn’t trust me.” Hayden replied with a sad smile. “Clearly not as much as you if you got the truth out of him.” He shook his head and when he spoke his voice was strained. “I need space from him. I’m scared I’m starting to hate him. I don’t want to hate him.”

“Then, find space.” she advised. “Because if you _do_ start to hate him, it will destroy him.”

He nodded thoughtfully. It wasn’t until they were standing on the station platform that he spoke again.

“When will you decide?” he asked.

“I have until Victory Tour.” she answered. “They usually announce changes in teams after the ball at the Presidential Mansion.”

His grey eyes were sad but he opened his arms for the traditional goodbye hug.

“Call me when you know.” he requested in her ear.

“If I do accept I will make sure you get the perfect replacement.” she whispered.

The embrace lasted longer than it should have. She felt as if she was saying goodbye to him, and to Twelve, forever.

Once the train was gone and she was walking back to her car, she told herself the tears in her eyes came from the wind and nothing else. Her chin jutted in the air mechanically and her lips stretched in a daydreaming smile. Ladies simply did not cry in public.

_Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_ , she told herself, her mother’s voice echoing in her mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo next Friday is Christmas so I won’t be updating Invictus. I will be updating on Sunday 27th at the same time as Human Tokens instead, this way we don’t miss a week. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!


	44. Chapter 44

Haymitch had become so accustomed to the train’s high speed that he felt it in his bones long after it had started to slow down when they neared Twelve. He finished his glass of whiskey and accepted the fresh mint pastille the Avox slid to him from the other side of the bar. Always the same Avox. Haymitch wondered briefly if the poor guy lived on the train all year long, wandering the corridors aimlessly until they needed him again for the next train ride to Twelve. He wondered if it was better or worse than the fate of the Avoxes in the city itself.

He sucked on the pastille until the train came to a stop and swallowed it quickly when the doors opened. It would never completely hide the liquor on his breath and if his mother didn’t throw a fit it would be Hayden but he couldn’t even begin to care.

Obviously, he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t be bothered to care because the station was deserted except for a lone figure bringing bags of coal out on the platform. The man looked at him curiously and then went back to his work. Haymitch waited a few minutes, certain his family would appear – it was the norm, after all, they _always_ came to greet him at the station and he was sure they knew he would be back because Effie always called to warn his mother. True, he hadn’t seen Effie since the fight and he had booked the train without telling her but she must have been notified and as a consequence, she must have called ahead. It was part of her job and she valued her job too much not to do it properly.

The hike from the station to Victors’ Village seemed endless.

All the people he crossed path with stared at him openly or on the contrary looked away abruptly. He glimpsed the Mayor from afar, talking with the mine’s supervisor and a few angry looking miners. Probably another talk about how ancient the mining equipment was getting and how dangerous it was for the workers… The argument had already been all Twelve could talk about when Haymitch had been a kid and he knew that, as much as he would like to, Undersee wouldn’t be able to do anything. There was no money and no forthcoming help from the Capitol.

He wasn’t unhappy to see the wrought iron gates looming ahead and he quickened his pace. The honking greeted him from a few feet away and he thought there was no sweetest sound than his geese welcoming him home – his pets, at least, were happy to see him. He went directly to the backyard, checking briefly on the pen and immediately noticing where it needed to be strengthened to prevent wild animals from eating the birds. Once certain that no geese were missing and, above all, that his liquor stash had remained undiscovered and well guarded by his gaggle, he made his way inside through the kitchen door.

“Mama, I’m home.” he called out, dropping his bag next to the door.

For a second, he was worried because the house seemed strangely too calm. He knew it was empty even before he reached the living-room.

“Hayden?” he called anyway.

He frowned when he caught sight of the shelves in the living-room. There were holes in them, as if some books had been taken away – none out of his collection of forbidden texts but others.

Something was off.

_Details_ , he mused, cursing the liquor clouding his mind and making it hard for him to focus on his surroundings. He was sure other things were missing…

The front door opened and closed before he could start truly panicking and he hurried to the hall in time to see his mother shed her woolen navy coat.

“Mama.” he breathed out in relief. He hadn’t truly been aware of just how much he had been scared for his family right before that second. “You weren’t at the station, Trinket didn’t call?”

“She did.” Iris replied, pulling on the jacket he hadn’t taken off yet, forcing him to lean in so she could peck his cheek. She surveyed him from head to toes and then glared. “I am _very_ disappointed in you, Haymitch. _Punching_ your own brother, really?”

“Sorry, have you seen my nose?” he scoffed, waving at his own face. The swelling had gone down in the last few days but not enough that it wasn’t the first thing you saw when you looked at him.

“You threw the first punch.” she retorted, steering him to the kitchen and forcing him to sit on a chair so she could take a better look. “Did you see a doctor?”

“Don’t need to.” he grumbled.

After a few seconds of close examination, she seemed to concur because the moment of sympathy was obviously over. She folded her arms over her chest and scowled at him. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“I don’t know what Hayden told you but…” he started.

“He told me _nothing_. His girl did.” she cut him off.

“His girl?” he repeated with a frown. _When_ did Hayden get himself a girl and why was he only learning about it now?

“Effie.” his mother waved the question off with an impatient gesture.

Haymitch rubbed his eyes, his exhaustion only increasing. “I told you a thousand times, Mama, she’s not his girl. He’s not interested. She’s not interested. _Nobody’s_ interested.”

“A mother senses those things, Haymitch.” she curtly replied.

“Then get your senses checked.” he muttered.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t deaf and that warranted him being swatted with the cloth abandoned on the table.

“Insufferable child.” she hissed but her voice soon turned sad. “ _What_ is wrong with you, Haymitch? Hitting your brother…”

“He pushed me first. She told you that?” he snapped.

“Yes, she did. The poor girl wouldn’t spill the whole story at first but I convinced her. And do you think Hayden didn’t get a lecture?” Iris retorted sternly. “Still, pushing and punching are two _very_ different things, aren’t they? And this isn’t the problem, here. The problem is your behavior and it had been for some time now. I don’t blame Hayden for moving out.”

He stared at her, unable to process it for a few seconds. “What do you mean moving out?”

“Don’t you know?” she frowned. “I thought…” A flash of relief passed on her face. “I was afraid you had kicked him out.”

“What?” he scoffed. “What are you _talking_ _about_ , Mama? Hayden’s not moving out.”

He pushed himself out of the chair and took the stairs two at a time, trying hard not to think of the holes in the bookshelves and the missing knick-knacks here and there. Hayden’s door was open and he stepped in without an hesitation but he paused once inside. The room was bare, save for the furniture and the odd standard decoration that had come with the house. The bed was stripped down to the mattress, the wardrobe doors were open on an empty cupboard, the few framed pictures of their family were gone…

“The day he came back he started moving everything to his house.” his mother explained quietly, leaning against the doorframe. “He offered for me to go live with him but… I’ve lived here for almost twenty years, Haymitch. This is my home.” There was a note of defiance in her voice, as if she feared he would contradict her. Or kick her out maybe since apparently he was such a monster in their mind.  

“Of course it’s your home, Mama.” he said. “I need to…”

He left her there and almost ran all the way to Hayden’s house. It wasn’t far, barely the other side of the street, but it seemed to be the other end of the earth to Haymitch. They had never lived in separate houses before. Ever since Hayden had won, the house that went with his victory had been unused except in rare occasions. He went in without asking for permission. He hadn’t been there often enough to notice the changes but it did look more lived-in than before. The layout of the houses were standards, it didn’t take him long to find Hayden in the living-room, pushing furniture around.

“You could knock first.” his brother pointed out without even glancing over his shoulder to make sure it was him.

“What are you doing?” he asked plainly, trying not to let his first impulse – which was getting angry – get in the way.

“Trying to decide if the couch is better facing the fireplace or the TV. I could move the TV too…” Hayden replied, placing his hands on his hips to survey his work. “Effie says south exposition is better but…”

“Hayden.” he cut him off. “What are you doing? That’s… What? A passive aggressive way to punish me?”

“Everything always has to do with you in your little world, right?” Hayden snorted, before he sighed. “That’s something I need to do. I need air, I need space and I need to not have you on my back every hour of every day. You want some coffee? It might sober you up before Mama realizes you’re drunk.”

He agreed to a cup of coffee, if only because the situation felt so surreal he didn’t know what else to say.

“Look.” he said, once they were settled in the kitchen and Hayden had placed a smoking mug in front of him. “You want me to say sorry for helping Finnick, _fine_. I’m sorry.”

“The problem’s not just Odair, though.” Hayden shrugged. “It’s everything, Haymitch.”

“If you’re talking about Effie…” he sighed, uncomfortable. They used to talk about girls all the time _before_. Hayden told him everything and Haymitch did the same, even things Mabel would probably have ripped his head off for. Needless to say it was different now.

“I don’t like the way you treated her, no.” Hayden snapped. “She’s not one of your usual girls. She’s our friends. And you still slept with her, went out with other women, slept with her again and…”

“It’s more complicated than that.” he hissed.

“Yes, so she says.” his brother replied. “But I also think she’s a bit in love with you and has been for some time so I’m not sure I trust her judgment.”

Haymitch turned his mug between his fingers, wishing he had some of his booze to spice it up. “She told you about Six?”

“Yeah.” Hayden nodded. “She did. I guess she needs her space too.”

“Maybe.” Haymitch took a sip of his coffee. It scalded his tongue and it did nothing for the churning of his stomach at the idea Effie would leave and another escort would take her place. It wasn’t just the prospect of having to bribe another one with whatever they wanted from him, it was… He missed her already. He was terrified of just _how much_. Escorts from other Districts didn’t typically befriend victors from others teams, even if they had once worked with them. She would keep in touch with Hayden, of course, because they were very good friends but it wouldn’t be the same. And as for him…

_There is no us_ , she had said and although he knew she was right, that it was the safest, smartest thing to say, it still left him hollow.

“Come back home.” he pleaded. “This is ridiculous.”

He couldn’t lose them both.

Hayden watched him for a few moment over the rim of his own mug. “Tell me the truth.”

“What truth?” he deflected, his mask of carelessness immediately covering any surprise on his part.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” his brother shrugged. “There’s more to the story apparently. Maybe you’re not really a jerk, maybe you’re just pretending to be one for whatever reason. Maybe there’s a reason you’re acting the way you do. Maybe there’s a reason Effie likes you even though you’re a massive pain in the ass.”

His hands were clammy around the mug, his fingers were starting to shake with nerves and he felt as if he would throw up any minute. His grey eyes darted from the white porcelain to his brother’s steady gaze and he opened his mouth, thinking that was it, that was the moment.

“There’s no truth.” he said instead. “I like women. You were right, I’m a drunkard skirt chasers just like Dad. Effie wants to see something that’s not there just like Mama did.”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, like poison.

It almost destroyed him.

He realized he didn’t want to lie to Hayden anymore yet it was too late to come clean – or maybe too difficult. How could he look in his baby brother’s eyes – a brother he had as good as raised – and say: “ _Truth is I’m a whore, baby brother_. _They whistle and I lie down like a good dog_.”? How? There would be pity in Hayden’s eyes, pity and sympathy and a lot of other things that didn’t belong in a little brother’s eyes. He wanted respect and admiration from Hayden but he would take disgust and disapprobation over pity any day.

It was too difficult and Haymitch was a coward.

He couldn’t do it.

Hayden was staring at him and Haymitch averted his eyes. Could his brother tell he was lying? He wasn’t sure. Hayden knew him better than most but he had two decades of practice in that department.

“You don’t want to do better, _be_ better?” Hayden asked. “You could go back to who you were before, you know. That guy was a nice guy. I loved that guy.”

He couldn’t quite stop the sad smile. “There’s no going back.”

There never would be.

Once a victor, always a victor.

Hayden nodded slowly and then shrugged. “Then I’m staying here. I think it’s the only way to keep things good between us. I can’t watch you screwing up your life every day. The booze, the women… You have no idea what it does to Mama. Or to me for that matter. It’s like watching you rushing straight into a wall head first.”

“Okay.” he said. Perhaps it was for the best after all. Perhaps their relationship would be less strained if they didn’t have to be in the same house from dawn to dusk. And it wasn’t like Hayden would be far… The other side of the street wasn’t far, he told himself. It was still close enough that Haymitch could run to his help if needed. _Was it?_ , a little voice whispered in his mind but he resolutely shut it down. Hayden was a man now and Haymitch shouldn’t forget it. If he could almost break his nose, he could defend himself for the two minutes necessary for Haymitch to cross the street.

“Haymitch, you do whatever you want to do, I’m not stupid enough to think I can stop you from getting drunk or laid but… Effie’s out of bound.” Hayden said. “She deserves to be treated right.”

“Yeah.” he snorted. “For what is worth, she was special.”

He needed to say it aloud at least once.

“And you still cheated on her.” Hayden pointed out.

“It’s not cheating when you’re not in a relationship.” he replied. “Don’t tell Mama about her, please. I don’t need the nagging.”

He couldn’t begin to imagine the lecture he would get.

“Like you didn’t tell her about Della?” Hayden grumbled with a glare but then he shrugged. “Fine. I won’t tell.”

“We’re good then?” he asked, finishing his coffee in three long mouthfuls.

“We will try to be.” Hayden offered.


	45. Chapter 45

Two months since Hayden had moved out and Haymitch still wasn’t used to the empty chair at lunch. His brother regularly came over for meals – for their mother’s sake, Haymitch figured, but it wasn’t every day. Hayden was busy enjoying his newfound independence, learning to cook for himself and wash his own laundry – which as their mother pointed out, Haymitch should do too – and do a lot of other things that Haymitch had only dreamt of once or twice before the knowledge that he needed to take care of his family had quelled any fantasy of him living on his own with no one to report to. His brother seemed a little bit happier though.

“Chicken stew.” his mother declared, placing the steaming pot on the kitchen table. “Your fav…”

The rest of her words was swallowed by the slight tremor that made everything shake in the house. The earthquake didn’t last long, barely a second or two, but they only had time to exchange a glance before the sirens started blazing all around the District. They immediately stood up and headed out, in a reflex from their time in the Seam that a lifetime in the Village would never have erased. Hayden joined them on the path to the wrought gates, looking grim faced.

“They will want able men.” he said and Haymitch nodded, quickening his steps to match his brother’s. Soon enough, they left their mother behind in the flow of worried people who were hurrying toward the mouth of the mine.

They reached it with the first wave of concerned people. The mine supervisor was busy organizing the rescue teams and had no time to explain what happened but the rumor started running from mouth to ear: a section of the mine had collapsed and miners were trapped. It had happened before, it would happen again.

Hayden and Haymitch had no experience in the mine, the supervisor refused to send them down. Instead, he assigned them to the team that would remain upstairs so they helped settle a security rope to keep the crowd back and then did everything they could to be useful. They carried the miners that spilled out of the elevator and couldn’t walk, they made sure medical help was available for the ones who were the worst wounded… Before long, Haymitch was covered in sweat and coal dust and felt sick to the stomach with all the surrounding misery. His hands were covered with blood – although he couldn’t seem to tell whose blood it was – and he was trying really hard not to think about the Games and the arena and to the last time his hands had been that crimson.

He spotted his mother with Graesy Sae in a group of women taking care of the rescued miners, giving them water, making sure they were taken care of…

The flow of miners was endless. The elevator vomited them again and again until night fell and the stream started to trickle down. The crowd behind the rope had thinned down, people had found their loved ones and taken them home but those who remained… There was a girl with dark hair and grey eyes clutching the security rope in one hand and her sister’s hand with the other. She couldn’t be much more than eleven or twelve but her face struck him. On her left her mother was crying, on her right the sister was in tears but so strongly afraid she wasn’t making any sound at all and the girl… The girl was stone faced, as if she knew what would eventually happen and was already transitioning to the one who would be in charge from now on. He was familiar with the process, he had gone through it.

That one was a survivor, he thought.

Then he was distracted by a cry on his left. “Gale!”

The voice was familiar and the boy who made a dash for the elevator ran right past him so it wasn’t much of a hassle to grab him before he could go any further. The teenager – barely thirteen, he guessed – tried to wriggle free but Haymitch’s lock on his torso was secure and he dragged him back to his mother kicking and screaming. It had been years since he had last seen Hazelle and she looked surprised when he appeared in front of her, her son in his grip.

“Haymitch.” she said blankly.

They had been in the same class. They had been friends, good friends. She had tagged along more than once when he and Mabel had escaped the fence to visit the woods. He hadn’t kept in touch with anyone after his Games.

Her Seam grey eyes darted to the boy Haymitch pushed back on the other side of the rope and her hand latched on the kid’s shoulder. “Don’t run off like that, I need you to…” The rest of her sentence trailed off in a whine of pain as she clutched her stomach. _Pregnant stomach_ , Haymitch noticed, even though pregnant women in Twelve were never big. He reached out to steady her instinctively, glancing at the two other boys clutching her frayed coat with terrified eyes. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Mom, you’re not fine.” the teenager argued, pushing away Haymitch’s hands to steady his mother himself. “Let me go and find Dad and…”

Hazelle’s water broke and splotched at their feet. Haymitch watched his shoes stupidly, wondering how he could still find that more disgusting that the blood covering his hands.

“Oh, _fuck_.” she said.

“Mommy, you said a bad word.” One of the youngest boys whispered, eyes wide and utterly shocked.

“Okay, Okay… We need to get you home.” Haymitch decided, glancing at the teenager. “You, go get the midwife.”

The boy stared at him with open mistrust but then ran away.

“So, what, you finally decided to get down from your high horse to visit your old friends and you’re already trying to be the boss of me?” Hazelle retorted. “That’s just like you, Haymitch. You _always_ have to be the one in charge. You can’t just…” Another contraction hit and she clutched at her stomach again, bent in two. “I’m not going anywhere until my husband is here.” she panted. “I need to know.”

“Who’s your husband?” he asked, tossing a glance over his shoulder. He caught his brother’s eye and gestured him over.

“Hazelle!” Hayden exclaimed in surprise once he was close enough to see the woman’s face in the dark. “It’s been years.”

“Yeah, nice to see you.” she replied dismissively. “You will excuse me, I’m in a bit of a hurry, so could someone find my husband?”

“Look, don’t be stupid.” Haymitch snapped. “What you’re gonna do? Give birth out here in front of everyone?”

It took five more minutes and another rant on her part before she consented to go home as long as Hayden would stay and warn her as soon as there would be news of her husband. The kids were young and badly afraid but he managed to get their name out of them, Vick and Rory, the oldest one was Gale, and with their help, they reached Hazelle’s house without any other difficulties than his hand being crushed to death each time a contraction bent her in two.

He had barely helped her settle down on her bed when Gale came back, all white face, followed at a more measured pace by Graesy Sae and Haymitch’s own mother.

“The midwife’s son is dead.” Sae said grimly. “She won’t come. Everdeen’s wife is waiting for news and the doctor has his hands full for now.”

“My husband.” Hazelle begged. Her nails were digging painfully into the flesh of Haymitch’s wrist and he wished her husband would hurry to take that elevator so he could escape with all his limbs.

“I’m sorry, dear, no news yet.” Iris replied, sitting next to her on the bed. “Now, let’s see how far you are, yes?”

Haymitch suddenly understood they were planning on helping her deliver the baby and he couldn’t jump away from the bed fast enough.

“You sure you can do that?” he asked, watching Sae and his mother dubiously.

“We’ve all been there, boy.” Sae scoffed, wiping sweat from Hazelle’s brow. “Why? You want a try?”

“I need Robb.” Hazelle repeated again. “Please, please, I need Robb. The kids… Someone needs to watch the kids…”

“Haymitch will do that very well.” his mother said as if it was decided.

And it was.

Soon enough, he was pushed out of the bedroom and into the main room where the kids were all sitting around the table.

It occurred to him that he had no idea how to take care of small children. Vick, the youngest, was barely five. What did you do with a five years old? Rory was eight and stared at Haymitch as if he held the truth of the universe. And Gale… Gale had his face buried in his hands.

“Where’s Mommy?” Vick asked in a frightened voice.

“She’s… Well…” Haymitch stammered. “You’re getting a new little brother or sister.”

“And Daddy?” Rory asked. “Where’s Daddy? He was here when Vick was born.”

Hazelle let out a sharp cry from the other room which made the youngest kids look at the door in horror and Haymitch decided distraction was in order. He clasped his hands. “Who wants to hear stories about when your Mommy was young and wild?”

Gale took his hands away long enough to stare at him in disbelief.

“It’s time for bed.” the teenager said.

Haymitch glanced at the clock next to the fireplace and he supposed that, indeed, it was long past bedtime for small kids but he could see that wouldn’t work.

“But I’m hungry.” Vick argued with a frown. “We didn’t have dinner.”

It was the moment Hayden chose to appear. He was as dirty as Haymitch felt, covered in coal dust and blood. His face, though, told Haymitch everything he needed to know.

“Dad?” Gale asked in a whisper.

Vick and Rory looked at Hayden with such expectant eyes… As if they were waiting for him to step aside so their father could come in and that just broke Haymitch’s heart. If they told them, the boys would want their mother and she had more urgent problems right now. It needed to wait for a little while.

Gale, though, was another problem entirely. From Hayden’s hesitant stance, he had understood. The boy stood up and kicked the chair he had been sitting on.

“Hey.” Haymitch said, fishing for a good way to handle this. “We have food at home. Why don’t you go with Hayden and bring back some. You can… talk on the way.”

For a second, he thought Gale would protest but then his eyes fell on his little brothers and he nodded slowly.

“You will keep an eye on them?” the boy asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Haymitch promised. “We will play a game or something… You’ve got a game, boys?”

Hayden and Gale were gone much, _much_ longer than a walk up and back to their house warranted. It was long enough, in any case, that the boys taught Haymitch _everything_ he needed to know about that weird card game involving going fishing and hitting the deck of cards when you had four cards of the same color… He wasn’t sure he understood everything and he was very tempted to introduce them to poker if only because it would have distracted _him_ from the now regular screams from Hazelle in the next room.

When they finally come back, Gale’s eyes were red and Hayden looked exhausted. The boys didn’t notice, they threw themselves on the cold stew and ate up at least two full plates each. After that, they dropped like flies and their brother carried them both to bed.

“There are still men trapped down there.” Hayden told him once they were alone. “I’m going to go back and see if I can help.”

“Be careful.” he nodded.

Hayden clasped his shoulder and then headed out and, for the first time, Haymitch saw the man instead of the boy.

Gale wandered back in the main room after a while and they waited in a silence only disrupted by Hazelle’s shouts. The boy was staring into the fire, lost in his thoughts and Haymitch didn’t feel it was his place to disturb him. It was nearing dawn when a different cry rang out through the house, a baby’s wailing. Gale jumped to his feet and it wasn’t long before Sae appeared on the threshold with a toothless smile. “You got a brand new little sister.”

A relieved grin played on the boy’s lips but disappeared soon enough. “How’s Mom?”

“She will be fine.” Iris said, urging the boy in before walking closer to her own son. “She wants to know if her husband…” Haymitch shook his head and his mother’s mouth pinched in sorrow. “I see. Do you want to tell her or…”

“No, you do it.” Haymitch was quick to say.

“A friend in time of needs…” Iris started to lecture but Haymitch shook his head again.

“I haven’t seen her in years. I don’t think we’re much friends anymore.” he mumbled. “I’m going back to the mine, see if I can help there.”

He was a coward, he mused, once he was back outside, watching the break of dawn in the horizon. The night had been a long one. He could see blankets had been passed around for people still waiting for news behind the security rope. He also could see no more miners were being hauled up from the belly of the mine. The girl with dark hair and her family were still there though, the mine captain was talking to them. The mother broke down into sobs and fell to her knees in her grief, the blond little girl started wailing and Haymitch watched, with an almost morbid fascination, as the dark haired girl quickly forced her mother up and started dragging her family back in the direction of the Seam. Not a single tear. She was gutsy that one.

Hayden was nearby, talking to another family: a woman with two boys. At some point, she started crying and Hayden immediately put a hand on her shoulder, looking calm but so very sorry.

Haymitch found Undersee in the chaos and asked what he could do, straight-out refusing to announce any death to anyone. He wasn’t cut out for that.

“Well… If you’re up to it, they will need help in the cemetery…” Undersee suggested grimly.

The cemetery wasn’t a place he entered willingly. He gave a wide berth to Mabel’s headstone and didn’t look at the corner reserved for fallen tributes to join the numerous men already digging. Someone passed him a shovel and then he attacked the cold dried earth. It was an ungrateful job, the soil was icy in place and his back started hurting before long but he kept at it, only pausing long enough to drink from the bottle of water being passed around, wishing it was whiskey instead. He dug and dug and dug and carefully didn’t think about how an awful death it was to be swallowed up by dirt.

People started trickling in the cemetery by noon. Some came to help dig more graves: miners who had been lucky enough to escape unharmed, others were simply people who wanted to help. He even spotted the baker and some of his boys – fortunately his witch of a spouse was nowhere to be seen though. Most people came for funerals. It never took long to organize in Twelve, a few planks hastily nailed together were used as coffin and when the family couldn’t afford that, a simple shroud made of a white sheet.

Haymitch lost count of the number of funerals he saw from afar that day while he was killing his back digging the dry earth. Still, they kept coming and coming to the point he wondered how the District would manage with so many miners gone.

It was late afternoon by the time he went home but he felt as if years had passed. Hayden was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich in silence, still covered in dust. Haymitch didn’t want to know what _he_ looked like after a whole day spent digging graves. He let his mother usher him to the sink and he washed his hands absent-mindedly while she fixed him something to eat. The dirt remained lodged under his fingernails but he couldn’t be bothered to get it out, Effie would have had a fit, he thought.

He ate and showered on autopilot, barely registering what his mother told him about Hazelle – she was doing as fine as could be expected – and stumbled to his bed. He was asleep before his head even touched the pillow.

He woke up hours later, out of breath, completely panicked and looking for a knife that wasn’t there. The dreams were hazy in his memory but he knew they had been gory and violent. It was the middle of the night and the house was silent so he figured either he hadn’t cried out in his nightmare or his mother had slept through it. He tried to lie back down but his mind kept wandering to all those people standing behind that rope near the mine, to the faces waiting for news about their spouses and loved ones, to the graves and Hazelle and the kids…

When he crept down the stairs in the dark, careful to be silent, he didn’t know what he was doing. A glass of water or maybe a book, that was how he would have explained it to his mother. If it had been his brother then he would probably have admitted he was craving a drink with the kind of thirst that made him afraid, sometimes, that he _was_ becoming a drunkard after all – because where was the line? He didn’t know why he rummaged around drawers until he found out what he was looking for and walked to the phone or even why he picked it up.

The phone rang and rang for so long he was sure it was a lost cause but then there was a click and it stopped ringing.

“ _Hello_?” a confused voice answered.

And for the first time in months, Haymitch finally relaxed.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahah! I was impatient for this chapter! Did you spot Katniss? And Hazeeeeelle is here! I'm assuming in canon Haymitch never went to help at the mine and thus never reconnected with various friends but here we have Hayden dragging him to help so... Yep, Hazelle is here. Next week you get the phone call ;)
> 
> Also, we're back to Friday updates next week. =)
> 
> What did you think of this one?


	46. Chapter 46

“Hello, sweetheart.” he said softly.

“ _Haymitch?_ ” He could almost picture the frown on her face. “ _It’s three in the morning. What’s wrong? Did something happen? Your mother? Hayden?”_

“They’re fine.” he replied, rubbing his face. “There was an explosion at the mine yesterday. Lots of people died.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line, confused silence perhaps. “ _Did you know anyone who worked there?”_

Probably. It had not even occurred to him. Almost everyone who had been in his class at school had gone to work in the mines. People he used to be friends with… People who were now strangers, like Hazelle.

“Have you said yes yet?” he asked.

“ _Are you drunk?_ ” she sighed, slightly exasperated and almost resigned.

“Not even a little.” he snorted.

He tried to picture her. Was she in her pink and white living room or in her gold and purple bedroom? Was she wearing a nightgown or one of those silky top and shorts pajamas?

_“Haymitch, it’s three in the morning and I don’t think we should be having this conversation at all.”_ she said quietly, so quietly he had trouble hearing it. She didn’t sound convinced. It would have been easier if she had been standing right in front of him. He was good at reading her face even with all the stupid make-up she insisted on painting it with.

“Don’t say yes.” he requested.

“ _Haymitch_ …” she sighed again.

“I’m a selfish man, sweetheart.” he cut her off before she could flat out refuse him.

She let out a soft chuckle, it sounded almost sad. _“You really are not.”_

“Yeah, I am.” he insisted. “’Cause if I wasn’t, I would let you go to Six. But I’m selfish and I want you to stay.”

_“Give me one good reason.”_ she demanded. “ _A very good one.”_

“You’re the best escort we ever had.” he shrugged, wandering to the sink to watch the backyard through the window. The wire was strained but it still worked.

_“That’s not a good reason. Perhaps the next one will be even better. How would you know?”_ she replied. _“You always assume the worst of people_.”

“Yeah and they rarely disappoint me.” he scorned.

_“Even so.”_ she argued. There was a ruffle of fabric on her side of the line.

“Are you in bed?” he smirked.

_“We are_ not _going there.”_ she warned. _“Don’t even dare make one of your corny jokes.”_

“But you’re in bed…” He closed his eyes and there she was in his mind. It was a prettier picture than anything his subconscious had to offer, like ghosts lurking in the dark corners of the kitchen or piles of dry earth ready to swallow him up whole until he suffocated to death.

_“Really, Haymitch, it is three in the morning, where else do you expect me to be?”_ she huffed. _“You woke me up – and I’m still waiting for an apology about that, I must add. However since I know how far-stretched the idea of you actually showing some manners is, I won’t hold my breath on that.”_

His smirk morphed into a genuine smile. “I love it when you rant even if you’re being annoying, how’s that for a good reason?”

_“You are not taking this seriously.”_ she retorted. _“I was serious. Give me a good reason because I already told you Six is a golden opportunity. I will have a real chance of winning and all those Games we lost….”_

“Sweetheart, look at the betting books. Six is right above Twelve. It’s not much better.” he pointed out. “They win once in a blue mood, they’re not exactly Career Districts. Besides, good luck taking their drugs away from them. All the victors in Six are junkies, everybody knows it.”

_“If I stay in Twelve, I will never get another promotion.”_ she replied. “ _What you’re asking out of me is nothing else than a professional suicide.”_

“Is that what I’m asking of you?” he mocked. “And here I thought we understood each other…”

She remained silent for a few seconds. _“I am keeping_ that _in mind too, if you must know. I would be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about it a lot.”_

“And?” he prompted.

“ _And I’m still waiting for a good reason.”_ she said.

“Hayden needs you.” he offered.

_“No, he doesn’t.”_ she denied. “ _He knows how to work on his own. As for the rest, he knows I will always be his friend. We actually talked about it. He, contrary to you,_ _doesn’t remember my existence on random nights at three in the morning, he calls at decent hours to catch up.”_

“Okay, _I_ need you.” he countered. “That’s the best reason I’ve got. Told you I’m selfish.”

Her breath audibly caught and he breathed out slowly. There were other things he wanted to tell her but he would never dare on the phone, not when he was sure every conversation was recorded.

He wanted her.

That was what he wished he could tell her. He wanted her in his bed, he wanted her in his arms and he wanted her in his life. He wanted her to chase the ghosts away, he wanted her to hold him when he felt so disgusted with what the Capitol had made of him he couldn’t look in the mirror anymore, he wanted her to say he was doing the right thing. He wanted her to have his back because he trusted her to do so. He wanted her to teach him how to love again even though it was the most scary thing he could ever face because love, until then, had brought him nothing but problems and heartache.

It was funny how he had stood by the mine earlier, watched the grief and the all-encompassing worry on everyone’s face and he had thought he would never be able to go through that again, not after Mabel. Loving two people was enough for him, loving two people was difficult enough as it was because, even though he was grateful for them, his mother and his brother didn’t always make it easy… And yet… He couldn’t stop thinking about Effie and the idea of letting her go for good… It was a brand new kind of terrifying perspective.

“Please. Stay.” If that was begging, he didn’t care.

_“If I do stay…”_ she ventured after some time.

“We’ll figure it out.” he promised. “I’m not saying it will be easy, sweetheart, but we can figure it out.”

She held her breath for a few seconds and then breathed out slowly. It wasn’t quite a sigh but it was tired and undecided all the same. _“Together?”_

He thought there was a double meaning in the question. “Together.”

She sighed again. He had lost count of the number of sighs in that conversation. _“I’ve always made the clever choices, Haymitch, always.”_

“Yeah, me too.” At least he would like to think he had. He had always tried to make the best of impossible situations.

_“That’s disputable.”_ she commented _. “But nevertheless you must realize… This is not clever. At all.”_

“Arrange a train to get me up to the Capitol for Victory Tour. It’s only two months away.” he said. “We should talk about this face to face.”

“ _I have to give my answer_ before _Victory Tour actually starts.”_ she objected. _“And… I’m not sure it would be smart to make you come. They didn’t request you. If you_ do _come, they might…”_

“They might, they might not. I’m not exactly Finnick anymore.” he scoffed. “I don’t care. I want to see you.”

_“Haymitch…_ ” She sounded undecided. _“I need to think about this.”_

“You’ve been thinking about it for two months.” he snapped. “What do you want to do? If you had to choose _right now_. What would you do?”

_“Right now I’m trying not to let my heart rule my head because at least one of us should be thinking straight and clearly the fact that you are even talking about that on the phone tells me you are not.”_ she retorted sharply. _“And you are_ not _making it easy. I need to go. I will think about it, I promise.”_

“Effie.” he growled.

“ _Goodnight, Haymitch_.” Just like that, she hang up and he was left listening to the sharp ringing of a disconnected call.

He felt so helpless he almost tore the phone off the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's the shortest chapter in the whole story but it was intense! What did you think? Did you like it? let me know!


	47. Chapter 47

Haymitch was trying to focus on his book even though it was made _very_ difficult by the fact the house was full of noises. He was almost tempted to seek refuge at Hayden’s if it would spare him the regular wailings of the baby and the sound of running footsteps once the boys decided it was too cold to play outside and they would much rather be a nuisance _inside_.

He rued the day his mother had offered to babysit Hazelle’s kids while she worked, and he rued even more the painful walk he had himself taken to convince Hazelle after her initial refusal. Hazelle had been out there looking for work barely a week after her baby was born and without her husband’s wages and with five mouths to feed, it had been pretty tight for her. She was uncomfortable with the idea of accepting what she viewed as charity given that she couldn’t afford to pay his mother. It had taken a long discussion before Haymitch finally admitted she would be doing Iris a favor because his mother was bored and lonely and it was very obvious neither he or Hayden were going to give her grandkids any time soon.

And that was how he found himself now, almost a month and a half later, labeled _Uncle Haymitch_ – to his increasing horror and his mother’s endless amusement – slumped on the couch and wondering how such little kids could make so much noise. As for the babysitting part, it occurred to him that he and his mother had two very different views on the term: she spent most of her time cooing and taking care of the baby while the boys were left to run wild all over the house and yard, under his – or Hayden’s when he was there – supposed supervision even though he couldn’t be bothered to get off the couch and Hayden, although willing to help, was clearly at a loss with small children. Most days, they tried to figure it out together – which was actually a good thing because they managed to have civil conversations now. Days like today, he was left to fend alone.

“Uncle ‘Mitch, you got biscuits?” Vick asked, hopeful, around the thumb in his mouth. His mother and Hazelle kept chiding the kid about that but Haymitch remained _way_ out of the debate since he was desperately trying not to get involved in the kids’ lives more than he already was.

“Kitchen.” he answered. “Same place as usual. Don’t break your neck reaching for them.”

If he had a weakness for liquor, the five years old was addicted to Iris Abernathy’s homemade cookies. He craned his neck to watch the kid’s dash to the kitchen and pricked his ears when he heard the chair being dragged all the way to the counter. It was easily accessible with a little climbing so he didn’t bother getting up. Instead, he glanced at the eight years old who sat on a chair, looking dejected.

“What’s up with you?” he asked.

Rory was usually the lively one – well, he supposed _Gale_ was the lively one but he never saw much of the teenage boy – and when he was this quiet, Haymitch had learned it meant troubles.

It took a few minutes of the boy wriggling this way and that on the chair, shuffling his feet before he finally spilled it out. “Gale took a Tessera yesterday. Mom was very angry.”

“I bet.” he sighed. That was another reason why he didn’t want to get more involved than he had to with the Hawthorne family: Hazelle had four children and the odds had never been in Haymitch’s favor. It was difficult enough to watch kids he didn’t know die, he couldn’t imagine doing it with kids he had fed cookies to while his mother wasn’t looking. Vick was too cute for his own good, or Haymitch’s for that matter, and Rory had taken to follow Haymitch around the house like a faithful puppy when Hayden was otherwise engaged and couldn’t answer the thousand questions the child asked on a daily basis.

“She said between the Tessera and going to the woods, he’s being stupid and she doesn’t want to lose him and he said that he needs to help her feed us because Dad isn’t here anymore and nobody else is going to do it.” Rory babbled in a rush. “And I said I wanted to help and that I want to take a Tessera too but Gale got very mad and Mom said I should never say that again.”

“Look, kid…” Haymitch was ill-at-ease. He and Hazelle were barely getting back to being acquaintances never mind being friends – she had more urgent problems at the moment and he was still wary of having too many people in his life – and he wasn’t privy to her private family matters. She talked more to his mother and Hayden than she did to him and he was sure she wouldn’t want their problems exposed like that. “I’m sure they’ve got everything covered.”

“But I wanna help.” Rory insisted, stubbornly.

Any answer on his part was prevented by the sudden commotion in the kitchen. The backdoor opened and closed and Hayden’s voice chided the kid about his chair climbing. Vick’s laugh boomed out and soon enough, he wandered back to the living-room, clinging to Hayden’s leg like a little monkey, his mouth stuffed with cookies. Hayden’s was munching on a biscuit at a more leisured pace.

“Cookies before dinner.” Hayden snorted at him. “If Mama or Hazelle find out about that, you better start running.”

“Since nobody is telling on me, there’s no reason they will find out.” he replied, eyeing the three of them seriously.

“It’s secret.” Vick nodded enthusiastically – although with all the cookies in his mouth it sounded more like _I’s sewet_ and crumbs flew everywhere. It was lucky his mother was still upstairs with the baby, he was sure she would have thrown a fit.

“If it’s a secret…” Hayden grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. He was just as guarded as Haymitch about getting too close to the boys – probably for the same reasons – but he was enjoying their presence very much and it seemed to be a losing war. It put some life back in their existences, Haymitch supposed, it broke the routine, it gave them something else to talk about than Haymitch’s behavior or the Games.

“I heard from Effie.” his brother said.

Haymitch tensed.

From head to toes, he tensed.

He hadn’t talked to Effie since the mine’s accident and their phone call. It had been a month and a half, the Victory Tour would start in a few weeks, he supposed she had finally announced her decision to move to Six.

“Yeah?” he said, trying to sound casual. He readied himself for what would be a blow no matter how prepared he was to hear it. He tried to conjure up Mabel’s face, tried to convince himself Effie was nothing but a passing fling, tried to tell himself he didn’t care… And just like on every other hour of the day, he failed.

If the puzzled way the kids were now watching him was any indication, he hadn’t sounded casual at all.

“Who’s Effie?” Rory asked. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Vick immediately made a face. “Girls are _yucky_. They have cooties!”

“Yeah, Uncle Haymitch should remember that more often.” Hayden nodded wisely, not even trying to hold back his laughter.

“What did she want?” he insisted, not in the mood for self-derision.

“What do you think she wanted?” Hayden snorted. “To tell me about next year, of course. If she’s staying or leaving.”

Haymitch was certain his brother was torturing him on purpose and he made no effort to hide his glare. “ _And_?”

His heart was racing all of a sudden. There was a stupid fleeting hope that, despite everything, she wouldn’t go.

“And she says you have to be at the station on the twenty-fourth at one pm sharp.” Hayden continued, completely avoiding the main question. “I didn’t know you were planning to go to the Capitol for Victory Tour.”

She had booked a train.

_She had_ fucking _booked a_ fucking _train._

His mind was in overdrive with the implications.

“She’s staying then.” He heard himself say.

“’Seems like it.” Hayden shrugged. “Don’t know why she changed her mind. You don’t happen to have an idea, do you? ‘Cause I thought we had an agreement where Effie was concerned…”

His brother sounded suspicious and concerned at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah…” he waved him off. “I don’t know.”

But he _hoped_ he did.

He felt stunned and yet it was difficult to refrain from grinning like an idiot.

“It’s your lucky day, boy.” he told Rory. “You just got yourself a job. What do you know about feeding geese?”

He figured that would make the kid feel better and Hazelle couldn’t object to him giving her money he didn’t need if it was in exchange for a chore his own mother was getting too old for.

And at least he wouldn’t have to worry about Hayden or his mother forgetting to properly check on the birds out of spite because he was taking his sweet time coming back to Twelve.

°O°O°O°

“You are making a dreadful mistake.” Livia hissed for what felt like the thousandth time to Effie.

Her friend was fanning herself with quick irritated movements and huffed when the woman on the other side gave her a pointed glare. Livia glared right back and Effie wondered why all her closest friends seemed intent on public fighting.

She didn’t think starting a brawl at a fashion show would be well received, even at a minor fashion show like the one they were currently attending. No renowned stylists were in attendance that night but Effie was so desperate to find someone who would work for Twelve and do a good job she was ready to start looking at beginners’ work. She had convinced her friend to accompany her after much pleading on her part, Livia’s feelings were still hurt that Effie had declined her offer to take over.

“And _good luck_ explaining your decision to Seneca.” Livia huffed. “I had everything smoothed out for you. The contracts are ready, they are just waiting for your signature. _Really…_ ”

Her voice was starting to cover the pop music blaring from the speakers and the people sitting around them were all glancing at them curiously, obviously sensing a juicy scandal was about to – or had already – occurred. To be fair, there was nothing truly riveting to the work of the particular stylist being exhibited at the moment, not only were the dresses unoriginal, the models barely knew how to walk in their heels.

“I thank you but my decision is made.” Effie replied quietly and, she hoped, in a definitive manner.

“Won’t you at least explain why?” Livia urged in a lower voice. “Because I have my suspicions, darling, I’ve had them for some time now and you can deny all you want, I…”

“Please, don’t.” Effie sighed. “Every argument you have, I’ve had with myself at least a hundred times.”

Livia studied her in the flashing beams of the spotlights. It was hard to tell with the heavy make-up but she thought Six’s escort looked sad. “Are you certain he is worth it?”

Effie briefly closed her eyes. Was he worth the heartache and the danger pursuing anything with him would trigger? She tended to believe that he was. She was also very sure this would destroy her.

She had been resolved to put her affair with Haymitch behind her. She had been resolved to forget everything. She had gone out, she had partied until she was ready to pass out from exhaustion, she had drunk her memories away, she had flirted with men, she had kissed a few, she had let them touch her in inappropriate places and yet she had found she couldn’t bear the thought of going any further than some drunken fumbling in the dark. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Haymitch. When she lied in bed at night, she could recall with perfect precision the weight of his body on hers, how his hands felt when they roamed on her skin, how his stubble scratched against her breasts, how deep and rough his kisses could be…

She had been resolved but neither her mind nor her heart nor her body were ready to move on and when he had called her that night…

The sound of his voice had almost been enough to undo her completely, asking her to stay, _begging_ _her_ almost…

Hayden had done his own kind of begging too, more subtle and for very different reasons, obviously, but it was clear he wished she would stay.

“You developed a loyalty for your victors, for your assigned District.” Livia remarked when Effie didn’t answer her question. “That’s all well and good but flaunting it like you do is dangerous. If _anyone_ has _any_ reason to question where your loyalty goes first…”

“My loyalty goes first and foremost to the Capitol.” she retorted, loud enough to be heard. She only lowered her voice to add. “I am not _flaunting_ anything.”

“Aside for your newfound love for Twelve.” Livia sighed. “They will forgive it if they think it’s due to a fling, I suppose, but don’t test the boundaries, Effie. There is no written law forbidding an affair between an escort and a mentor but there are reasons it never reaches the public sphere. Whatever you do, keep it on the quiet side.”

“I _never_ said anything untoward was happening.” she replied sternly. “It is _you_ who keeps implying as such.”

“Please.” Livia scoffed. “Give me some credit.” Her amusement was short-lived though. “You are walking on a thin line, darling. It is all well and good to want your tributes to win but it is much more personal for you and people are bound to notice at some point. I had hoped taking over in Six would give you perspective.”

“Yes, I know.” she offered. “I had hoped the same but, Livia, truth is… I can’t bear the thought of anyone else taking care of my victors or my District. Twelve has so little already… Those tributes need a fair chance and I can make it fairer.”

She could try at least.

“If you are sure.” Livia pursed her lips, obviously not convinced. “Do be careful.”

Effie welcomed that warning with an effortless bright smile and nodded to the model strutting on the cat-walk. “What do you think?”

The blue fabric was shiny and obviously designed to play with the lights as to allude to streaming water. The result was acceptable but left something lacking…

“Innovative.” Livia granted. “But blue isn’t in fashion and the cut is too classic. What is the stylist’s name?”

Effie consulted her program, running a gloved finger on the glossy paper until she found the right section. She checked the schedule and her watch to be sure. “Cinna.”

“Too young yet.” Livia declared. “In a few years maybe.”

“Yes, you are probably right.” she offered. “I will try to snatch Vagrys from Nine but I am not overly optimistic.”

“Stylists hunting is not something I will miss.” her friend chuckled.

“I cannot fault you for it.” Effie sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo Effie is staying! And next chapter we get the long awaited Victory Tour. Do you think it will go well? Let me know what you think! (reviews aren't showing up again but I receive them all the same so go crazy!).
> 
> I also published an Invictus playlist on my tumblr for those who are interested ;)


	48. Chapter 48

Haymitch spent most of the trip from Twelve to the Capitol in the bar car, looking down at a glass of whiskey he didn’t drink. The Avox guy kept him supplied with food he didn’t ask for but always went back behind the bar, a familiar presence, almost like a faithful guard.

When the train finally reached the city, in the morning, Haymitch was very sure Effie would be displeased. He wasn’t drunk so that was a plus, but he hadn’t bothered to shave in a few days and his shirt was creased and obviously old. He got off the train anyway, surprised to find only a thin crowd waiting for him – he knew there were more interesting victors nowadays yet he was still pretty popular and he usually got _more_ than ten people – but no escort. Aside for a few Peacekeepers making rounds and the fans behind the security ropes, the station was deserted. He played the game because that was what was expected of him, signed autographs and winked and grinned, noticing that his fans were getting old too. Perhaps the Capitol was finally getting tired of him.

That didn’t explain why Effie wasn’t there. It wasn’t like her to be late.

He was starting to think she would never show up, that a brand new bubbly twenty-something would come up, unbearable and so Capitol he would want to tear his own teeth out, and declared herself Twelve’s new escort, when another train slid into the station. He was taken aback by the golden _3_ on the engine. District Three team was supposed to be on their way to Twelve to parade their newest victor around…

“Beetee!” he exclaimed in pleased surprise when he saw his friend carefully getting down. It was odd because Beetee hadn’t mentored in years. He walked over to greet him, extending a hand for a handshake that made the man wince slightly. “What are you doing here?”

He peered at the train curiously but no one else walked out.

“Work. They wanted me to look at some things for them.” Beetee explained. “The broadcasting system or something. What are _you_ doing here ? I would have thought you were a bit old for the… mandatory attendance.”

Haymitch shrugged the question away. “Business.”

“What kind?” the man asked with a frown.

He was saved from answering by the recognizable stomping of boots and four Peacekeepers entering the platform quickly followed by Twelve’s escort who was wearing a light red – it _had_ to be red – dress entirely made of veils that hid everything it ought to hide but was incredibly suggestive. He supposed the desert shaped arena had an impact on fashion. It was certainly enough to make his mouth go dry.

The crowd of fan welcomed her arrival with calls and flashes of cameras but Effie simply waved at them with a bright smile before hurrying to the two victors as fast as her heels would allow her.

“I _do_ apologize for being late.” she started before she was even close enough – not that it mattered her high-pitched voice would have carried on miles. “Today has been one of those days, you know?” Her laugh was faked and strained. She touched his arm in greeting but didn’t meet his eyes and then immediately outstretched a hand to Beetee. “Mr Latier, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. My name is Effie Trinket and in the absence of your escort I’ve been requested to help you in any way I can. Please, feel free to call on me if you need anything during your stay.”

“Trying to climb the Districts ladder again?” Haymitch snorted, his eyes darting to the Peacekeepers who had, not so subtly, positioned themselves around them. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

She licked her golden painted lips nervously but the beaming smile never wavered. “There was an incident this morning. Please, follow me to the car, we are on a tight schedule.”

“What kind of incident?” he frowned as she led the way to the other side of the station where the usual black limo was parked. The two cars with Peacekeepers framing it weren’t usual though. “Why are we getting an escort?”

Beetee was clearly puzzled too but got in the car when she urged him to without asking any more questions. They ended up sitting facing each other, the victors on one bench seat and Effie on the other. Haymitch stared at her but she would neither depart from her cheerful escort persona nor explain.

“Okay, stop smiling like a crazy person and spill the beans.” he ordered once they were safely inside the car, with no immediate surrounding ears. Her blue eyes darted to Beetee but he waved that away. “He’s a friend. He won’t report you if you stop smiling for two minutes, Princess.”

It was like flicking off a switch. Suddenly, her face was all tension and her smile was gone. “There was a lot of traffic this morning. Someone got into Finnick’s car while it was stopped at a red light. Apparently, it was a stalker kind of fan. She had written him a thousand letters and she was upset he never answered her and, well… She came at him with a knife. We have no idea how that could have happened and the security teams are having _a fit_. Head Gamemaker Torello is ready to tear his wig off and Seneca, who is supposed to take over in a month, is being lectured in President Snow’s office as we speak.”

That was quite a speech and she was out of breath when she was done.

“How’s the boy?” he asked immediately.

“Finnick is alright. I saw him briefly at the Training Center.” she told him. “So is his escort. Fortunately, Shella was with him and was the closest to the door when that woman attacked. She reacted… harshly. Well, this is _a mess,_ there is no other term for it. The woman is in critical conditions and some people are complaining about it but she attacked _Finnick_ and there are more who want her head on a pike just for that. She will be lucky if she’s sentenced to being an Avox.”

“It means victors’ whereabouts will be restricted, yes?” Beetee asked, always practical.

“Yes, Mr Latier.” she nodded. “A Peacekeepers squad will shadow every victor during their stay at least for a few days. It is a preventive step in case anyone else got the same idea.”

“’Should have started by locking the doors.” Haymitch snorted, pushing the security lock on the car door just in case.

“Call me Beetee, please.” Three’s victor offered with a smile.

“Effie.” his escort replied.

“Drink?” Haymitch suggested, reaching for the hidden drawer on the side.

“Or not.” Effie said pointedly.

“Or not.” he sighed with a shrug.

Beetee watched the scene with unabashed amusement. “I heard a lot about you, Effie. I’m glad to have a chance to meet you.”

“Heard from whom?” Haymitch grumbled, even though he had his suspicions.

“Seeder and Wiress call each other at least once a month.” Beetee’s grin was teasing but Haymitch rolled his eyes all the same.

“Don’t you people have nothing else to do than gossip?” he retorted. “How’s Wiress?”

They spent the rest of the car ride catching up, Haymitch nodded a lot, seemingly interested in whatever Beetee was chatting about but in reality more focused on wondering just _how_ that fabric she was wearing could appear to be translucent and yet reveal nothing of import. When they finally reached the Training Center, Beetee took advantage of Effie’s brief checking in with security to tell Haymitch they should get together around a drink sometimes, he had something for him. Haymitch nodded but it was distracted. He had more pressing concerns than whatever Three’s victor wanted to give him.

The second Beetee had walked out of the elevator at Three’s floor, he pounced on Effie, pinning her against the wall. She must have been expecting it because she responded to his kiss eagerly, barely letting out a squeal when he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and framed his face with his hands to deepen the kiss. His own wandering hands told him she certainly wasn’t wearing a corset under that dress.

“Stop, stop…” she panted in his ear, failing to catch her breath when his mouth trailed down to her breasts. “Not here.”

_Cameras_ , his mind supplied, and he let her go, cursing his own stupidity. Not that he had any hope of hiding their affair from the Capitol – but he _was_ intending to hide its nature, let them think it was just sex.

“We can’t talk in here.” he whispered, dropping a kiss on her neck.

“I know.” she murmured. “But we _do_ need to talk… We need ground rules… We need…”

“We need to take that dress off you as soon as possible.” he smirked, just as the elevator doors swung open. The second they were in the relative safety of the penthouse, they started kissing again.

Haymitch felt desperate for her like he had rarely been desperate for anything else before except maybe alcohol when he let himself linger too much on the thought. The thirst was comparable, he thought, not something he _needed_ _per se_ but something he was _craving_ so badly it might as well have been of vital importance.

His jacket and shirt were dropped to the floor halfway to her room, her dress was tossed carelessly as they reached the threshold, her underwear ended up somewhere near the bathroom because they stumbled and hit the wall – her shoulder took the blunt of it but when he asked if she was alright she started kissing him again – he lost his shoes, pants and boxers right before they reached the bed. The only thing left on was her heels but he couldn’t be bothered to try and start to unknot the laces crisscrossing up her calves so he left them be – and deeply regretted it when they dug in the back of his thighs later on, it was sexy but it was also painful.

He had missed her _so much_ … He hadn’t fully realized how much.

They were so desperate it was almost embarrassingly fast : a few rocking of hips and he was done for.

“Did you…” he mumbled after a few seconds, once his brain had started working again.

“It’s alright.” she hummed, kissing his neck, yet there was a tinge of disappointment in her voice his ego couldn’t quite bear. He stroked her slowly until her breathing caught, then she grabbed his wrist, her recurrent “ _Haymitch_ ” getting more breathless by the second. She guided his hand, showing him exactly what she wanted and he was happy to play along, sucking on the skin of her shoulder while her orgasm built up.

When she finally came, he swallowed up her cry with a kiss and he held her until her body stopped shaking.

“I missed you.” she whispered in the crook of his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her tighter and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. She smelt like tropical flowers or fruits… Something sweet and exotic at the same time.

“I’m very glad you decided to stay with us, sweetheart.” he said, mindful of what the bugs could pick up. “I won’t lie, the sex is the best part.”

She chuckled against his skin, either understanding the lie or agreeing with the sentiment, he wasn’t quite sure.

“Against my better judgment.” she sighed, looking up at him. She ran her fingertips over his lips and chin, wrinkling her nose. “You’re covered in lipstick.”

“Yeah, so are you.” he shrugged with a smirk. “Then again, you look so much like a clown it’s an improvement if you ask me.” Her annoyed glare only made him smirk harder. “A clown who’s been fucked out of her brain.” he amended, barely avoiding the whack on his arm.

He pulled her against his chest, trapping her in his arms, and kissed her only to delay the eventual rant about fashion. Any thought of defending her make-up choices seemed to leave her mind as the kiss deepened though. He cradled her head with his hand but was annoyed to find synthetic hair sticky with hairspray on his path. He started taking out the pins but she drew back, placing a protective hand on her gold and silver wig.

“No, no, no.” she chided him. “We do _not_ have time for that. We are supposed to attend a cocktail in…” She reached for the clock of the bedside table. “Half an hour. That won’t do.”

“Let’s not go.” he decided, tugging her down again. He never wanted to leave that bed. He wondered if that was actually doable : never leave the penthouse for the entire duration of the Tour.

“We must.” she retorted, yielding to his mouth but making sure the kisses were little more than pecks. “Security being as tight as it is today, you can be sure they will come looking.”

“Then they will come looking.” he shrugged. “They will find us and realize we haven’t been murdered and they will leave us alone.”

“Your brilliant solution is to let Peacekeepers find us in bed together.” she deadpanned. “Why not sell tickets while you’re at it?”

“Be honest, sweetheart, it _would_ make their day.” he winked but he released her with an irritated sigh, knowing she had a point. At least it was a cocktail, it was almost guaranteed there would be alcohol – although he resolved to pace himself on that front, he had no present excuse to get drunk aside from bearing the presence of the insufferable Capitol people that were waiting for him downstairs.

“I need to check on Beetee too.” she declared, slipping out of bed and directly to the en-suited bathroom. “I promised Gloria I would take care of him. He’s her favorite victor, you know, she has a soft spot for him.”

He had to rack his brain to remember District Three’s escort and all he could come up with was a ridiculously tiny woman, even with heels, whose skin was dyed a different color every year.

“Yeah, he’s a ladies man.” he snorted as she reappeared in the room, any wayward hair on her wig now carefully put back in its proper place. “Careful, he might take an interest in you.”

There were as many chances of that happening as Snow suddenly announcing he was stepping down from office but teasing her was one of his few pleasures in life. If the unimpressed glance she tossed him was any indication, she wasn’t buying it. He watched her getting dressed in that veil dress that almost looked like a roman toga until she chased him out of her room, instructing him to “clean up”. He supposed that mean getting into one of the suits she had ordered for him and that were waiting in his own wardrobe. He humored her because he knew that was what the Capitol expected of him, he couldn’t really well abandon his public image of playboy, but he forewent the tie like he always did despite her disapprobation.

The cocktail wasn’t as boring as he had feared. Effie did drag him to meet several potential sponsors she expected him to charm into giving them money but the get-together was restricted to people on a list and, as such, was a small one – which was ten times better than the huge parties, he hated those.

Finnick found him at some point and recounted the morning incident in more details than Effie had given, stating that, for once, he was glad for Shella. The boy had grown a lot in the past year, Haymitch couldn’t help but notice, and scarcely looked like a kid anymore. That wouldn’t help him getting fewer special appointments.

“How’s Mags doing?” Haymitch asked.

“Oh, much better!” Finnick grinned with genuine joy. “She can talk again now. It’s a bit hard to understand her sometimes but she’s really doing well. And you should see her walk around with that stick of hers… The way she clutches it, she always looks ready to hit someone.”

Effie joined them at that point, sparing a sincere smile for Finnick – so different from her fake ones, Haymitch mused – and handing her victor a glass. He thought it was wine until he took a sip and realized her idea of a joke was to bring him grape juice. She batted her fake eyelashes at him innocently but there was a teasing grin tugging at her lips and, really, it was all he could not to erase it with a kiss.

“What happened to you, Effie?” Finnick frowned, clearly wavering between amusement and concern.

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

It took Haymitch a few seconds to realize Finnick was staring at a spot on her shoulder right at the edge between fabric and skin. The area looked reddish against her otherwise ivory skin.

“Did you cheat on me?” Finnick asked, placing a hand on his heart with a fake hurt expression on his face. “And here I thought we had something special…”

When she realized what was going on, Effie’s eyes opened wide and she excused herself to hurry to the ladies’. Haymitch sipped his grape juice and wondered how much trouble he was in. Not that it was _completely_ his fault… She should have checked before.

“Any idea why Effie is walking around with hickeys on her neck?” Finnick mocked, bringing his own glass – that obviously wasn’t juice and Haymitch wondered _when_ exactly the boy had learnt to stomach stronger liquor – to his mouth.

“No.” he shrugged. “None of my business.”

Finnick studied him for a few seconds and then snorted. “Chaff’s right. You’re a good actor.”

“And you shouldn’t believe everything that old idiot has to say.” Haymitch replied. “You’ve met Beetee yet?”

His effort to switch the topic wasn’t very subtle but Four’s victor took the bait easily enough and Haymitch did the introductions once he located Three’s victor in the crowd. Effie reappeared after a good fifteen minutes with her usual bright smile, any traces of love bites carefully hidden under a generous dose of foundation.

He found the whole mishap rather funny but he was painfully aware at the same time that it wasn’t completely amusing.

“That is why we _need_ to have a conversation.” she told him later, in a hushed whisper. “This is reckless enough, we need to be clever about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally THE reunion! Did it go like you think it would?


	49. Chapter 49

The first thing Effie did when she came back to her apartment that night was to switch the TV on. She found Tanya’s _Hot Gossip_ talk show and left it as a background noise, barely keeping an eye on the screen since they were talking about a Gamemaker’s wife possibly having an affair with another Gamemaker. She sat on the couch and toed off her shoes with a sigh of relief, rubbing the aching soles of her feet before taking off the heavy diamond necklace and matching earrings, then she pried the rings off her fingers and started removing her wig.

By that time, Tanya had finally finished exploring the poor woman’s infidelity topic and had switched to a live feed of a party happening in an old hotel in the middle of the city. Effie hoped to get a glimpse of Haymitch but the camera stopped at length on Finnick, and Haymitch wasn’t anywhere near him so she grabbed everything she had taken off and put it in its rightful place before stepping in the shower, wishing she could have escorted Haymitch to that party.

Since Haymitch had insisted on being present in the Capitol for Victory Tour, they expected him to appear at certain places at certain times of the day. It was better than _special appointments_ , she supposed. He had suffered none of those yet and she was hoping it would continue in that fashion. There were certainly more than enough handsome younger victors around that they didn’t need Haymitch to entertain anyone – it didn’t settle well on her mind that she would cast away other people so easily for his sake but she had learnt after her first year as an escort to compose with a burdened conscience.

Still, she wished she could have been with Haymitch that night. The parties he attended were often on invitations only and while she could have gotten one, she had her own social obligations to attend to and the two didn’t always mix. That night for instance, she had finally secured stylists for the following year. They wouldn’t be great and she needed to call Hayden to let him know but she was starting to grasp at straws on the stylists front.

She wished she could have, at least, moved into the penthouse for the duration of the Tour. However, that wasn’t an option. No other escort was staying at the Training Center and she couldn’t be the only one if she didn’t want to bring attention to them. Besides, two weeks after the incident with Finnick, security was still tight and their every move spied upon. She hadn’t spent a single night in the penthouse and they hadn’t found a chance to talk yet but she would have been lying if she had claimed not to enjoy the stolen embraces they shared every time they could get away with it. They were never enough though.

Effie had never touched any kind of drugs – not only her mother would have killed her faster than it took to bring a pill to her lips but she had seen firsthand the damages they could have during her modeling years. Yet, Haymitch felt like a drug to her, something she was hooked on. She had never felt like that with a man before. Attraction, desire, lust… She was accustomed to those feelings but there was something more with Haymitch. Usually, desire lessened after a few times, she got bored really quickly, but with him… When they were in the same room, she sought him instinctively. When he was near her, she needed to reach out and touch him even if it was only casual like a hand on his arm. When they weren’t together, she was yearning for his presence. Even when he annoyed her – and he tended to annoy her a lot – she couldn’t quite shake off the waves of fondness. In short, she knew she was head over heels for him. She had fallen so fast it would have been more justified to say she had _crashed_ and if that truly was what love was about, it felt like the flu.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy towel around her chest, paddling to the sink for her nighttime ritual. She carefully wiped off the make-up the shower hadn’t already erased and rubbed two different creams on her skin, being particularly generous around her eyes. She didn’t know if she was imagining the lines or not but when her face was as bare as it was at the moment, it was difficult to ignore she would turn thirty-one in a few weeks – not that she _could_ forget, almost thirty-one and still unmarried, her mother was ranting weekly.

She toweled her wet hair, humming quietly to herself, and wandered to the kitchen, checking the towel was secured. She grabbed the leftover from her last takeout order and slumped on the couch to watch the rest of the talk-show, still wishing she could get a glimpse of Haymitch. Tanya had moved on to other subjects though: speculations over who the new District Six’s escort would be. Her name was thrown in the fray and she hoped that her mother wasn’t watching because she had been lectured on the matter at least twenty times already. According to Elindra Trinket, she should simply go to Seneca Crane to gain the promotion and secure his affection while she was at it because he would make a wonderful husband for her. Effie didn’t know what her mother would have been more appalled by: knowing she had rejected the position or seeing her eating cold lasagna on the couch wearing nothing more than a towel like a barbarian?

The joyful chime of the doorbell made her pause, fork frozen halfway to her lips. It wasn’t late by Capitol standards – barely past midnight – but it _was_ late for an unplanned social call and Effie wasn’t expecting anyone. Thinking it was probably one or several of her friends wishing to sweep her off to a party or another, she was quick in making the incriminating leftovers disappear in the kitchen before rushing to the door to check the security monitor. There were no gaggle of excited Capitol girls in front of her building, just a man with his hands deep in his pockets who looked slightly annoyed at being forced to wait.

She buzzed him in and impatiently waited for him to get into the elevator and reach her floor before ushering him in her appartment.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a serious frown. “Where is your Peacekeepers escort? What did you do?”

“So many questions, Princess.” he smirked, eyeing her up and down.

She was used to seeing desire and appreciation in men’s gazes. She was a beautiful woman, after all. She wasn’t used, however, to seeing those sentiments when she wasn’t groomed and dressed to seduce. No Capitol man would have taken a look at her bare face and her plain hair and looked as struck as Haymitch did. She didn’t understand why he loved her best like that, natural and ugly, but she did love that he could make her feel gorgeous when everyone else would have scorned at her lack of refinement for showing herself without artifice.

“And I am waiting for answers.” she huffed.

“You got tomato sauce on your face.” he mocked instead. He cupped her cheek and his thumb rubbed her lips, lingering long enough that she forgot to be mortified. “They don’t think there is any danger anymore. They lifted the security escorts.” he told her after a few seconds. “So I came here.”

“Oh…” Her grin was slow but irrepressible. “Good choice.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” he snorted, coiling a hand behind her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

His touch was like fire, it always sent her brain in overdrive.

“Did you make sure you weren’t trailed?” she asked, forcing herself to be coherent even though he was nudging her in the direction of the living-room and she soon found herself with her back to the couch and very little room to escape his touch. “The last thing we need is another Della scandal…” His mouth fell on her throat and her head fell back. She was grateful for the couch and the strong hands supporting her weight because she was quickly losing it.

“I was careful.” he mumbled against her skin. “And unlike my brother, I know how _not_ to be followed. Not my first run with paparazzis.”

She half expected him to lift her up and take her right where they were standing but he surprised her. The kissing became less frantic and ended with little pecks, he brushed his fingers against her face, tucking her still wet hair behind her ear – and she _didn’t_ let herself think about just how wild her hair must have looked because she was already yearning to dash to her bathroom and make herself presentable.

She noticed the ring because the metal was cold against her skin.

“I didn’t peg you for a jewelry kind of man.” she commented, grabbing his hand to get a better look. It was silver with a black flat stone. It looked like a signet ring but she was positive she had never seen him wear it before.

“Beetee’s gift.” he shrugged, making the stone turn once on the left. It shifted from black to crimson red. “Bug jammers. You can’t have it on all the time or they will notice but if you want to have a private chat, it can come in handy...” He turned the stone twice on the right and it faded to a greenish tinge. “And now we know your place isn’t bugged.” It was a relief, she supposed, because she _had_ wondered. “Doesn’t mean you can tell anyone anything in here, yeah?” he warned her, nudging her chin up so she would look at him instead of staring at the ring. “Be careful about what you say and to who you say it.”

“Whom not who.” she corrected absentmindedly. “Does that mean we can have a discussion about our relationship?”

He didn’t seem entirely pleased by the suggestion but she could tell he had been expecting it. He shrugged and flopped on her couch, gesturing at her to talk.

She turned off the TV and remained standing, knowing that if she sat on the couch with him, there would be no talking and a lot of touching.

“We need ground rules.” she stated. She had rehearsed that speech in her head so many times that now that it came down to it, it seemed almost superfluous to her. “We can’t let anybody know we are having an affair for starters, it would be… Well, it would be a hassle to handle and I would probably get fired over it.”

“You won’t get fired over that.” he snickered. “You have any idea how many escorts Brutus fucked? Or _me_ for that matter?”

She flinched and looked down. It wasn’t so much the language – as crass as it was – but the meaning behind it. He had told her once that he wanted more than her body but he had been drunk and they hadn’t even been intimate at that point.

“Just put my foot in my mouth here, yeah?” he winced. “Look, I’m not good with… anything like whatever it is we’re doing and I can promise I will probably fuck it up so…”

“It’s alright.” she cut him off, a little more harshly than she had intended. “Actually, we also need to talk about that. Are we having an exclusive relationship or is it casual?”

It was his turn to flinch. “I can’t promise exclusive, sweetheart. You know that.”

“No, I meant… This is _so_ awkward.” She was such a bundle of nerves and it was all so ridiculous she started laughing for exactly no reason at all. She had had that kind of conversations before – people in the Capitol liked to be clear on the nature of their relationships and to have several casual affairs at once wasn’t unheard of – but she had never felt so ill-at-ease with him which was odd because they usually were very in tune with each other.

“You think?” he snorted. He stared at her for a few seconds and then looked away. “I’m going to be real honest here, I find another guy in your bed I might snap his neck so if you want to keep it casual, you better do it while I’m not in the city.”

It didn’t sound like a joke, his hands were clenched into fists but, at the same time, something that looked a lot like vulnerability flashed on his face and it made Effie relax. They _were_ being ridiculous. She approached him slowly and sat on his lap, his arms immediately sneaked around her waist, and he responded to her kiss easily.

“I don’t want other men.” she whispered. “And I know you can’t promise anything to me but, aside for… _special appointments_ …”

“Sweetheart, you’re the first woman I’ve fancied in a while.” he replied, averting his eyes, obviously embarrassed. “And you’re difficult enough. I don’t want another one.”

“Exclusive then.” she decided, glad that was out of the way. That was the delicate part, she thought.

“Do we _have_ to talk about this?” he cringed. “We’re not doing _too_ bad for now. We can just see where it goes.”

“You’re such a hippy.” she huffed. “I like to plan.”

He rolled his eyes. “You can’t plan that kind of things. Even I know that.”

“This is going to be difficult in any case.” she retorted. “We see each other a month a year, two if you come for Victory Tour. This is…” It was her turn to avert her eyes. She was needy when she was in a relationship. She liked being fussed upon, she liked being courted and while she already knew there would have been none of that with Haymitch even if he had lived right next door, the distance was still something that gave her pause.

“Regretting the exclusive thing already?” he taunted but there was something distant in his voice. His arms relinquished their hold on her waist. One of his hands fell on her thigh but it was more distracted than purposeful. “Look, we can just keep this an occasional thing. It doesn’t have to be…” He shrugged, keeping eyes riveted to the window on his left. “Told you, I am being selfish with you. Maybe it would be best if you just took Six and forget about me. Safer for you. Last girl I got involved with got a bullet in her brain for her trouble.”

His fingers clenched her thigh but she didn’t think it was on purpose. His lips were pursed tight, his jaw was tensed and he looked ready to bolt. She just knew at the way his Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down that he really wanted a drink.

“I don’t want Six.” she said softly. “And I think you are allowed to be selfish once in a while.”

Haymitch had given up absolutely everything he had to give for his family. She truly didn’t see him as a selfish person. _She,_ on the other hand, was a _very_ selfish person. And she wasn’t ready to give him up just yet.

“Even if your life’s the price, Princess?” he snickered. “’Cause that might just come down to that.” He shook his head and tried to push her off his lap but she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He tried to free himself off her but she straddled him to keep him still and framed his face with her hands. Their eyes locked and he stopped struggling.

“I won’t be Hayden or your mother.” she said very calmly. “You won’t _ever_ take decisions for me or hide anything to protect me. If someone threatens me to make you do something, you _will_ tell me. If I am in danger, you _will_ tell me.” Sensing that he wouldn’t try to run away again, she ran her fingers in his hair. “I know the risks, Haymitch, I have been doing a great amount of thinking about those risks amongst other things. I won’t be an escort forever and I have no idea what we will do then…”

“In five seconds, you’re going to ask me to marry you.” he scoffed. “We don’t know what will happen in two days, why are you worrying five _fucking_ years early?”

“If we are doing this, we are doing it as partners.” she insisted. “I need to be able to trust you.”

“And you don’t?” he snapped, watching her with incredulity.

“I’ve seen firsthand just how far you can go to protect someone you…” She avoided _love_ at the last second, sensing it wouldn’t be appreciated. “… care for. I don’t like being manipulated or lied to.”

“Funny thing to say for a brainwashed Capitol.” he sneered.

“I am not so brainwashed anymore, am I?” she retorted, irritated with his attitude. She moved to stand up but he pulled her back by her wrist and wrapped his arms around her. “You are being _insufferable_.” she hissed. “I have rejected a promotion for you. I have gone against all my principles because _you_ asked me to. Do you want this or not?”

His grey eyes were annoyed and his voice was rough. “No, I don’t want this. _This_ , as you keep saying, is the most stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life and I’ve won a _fucking_ Hunger Games by praying an axe would bounce back right in someone’s head.” His tone was harsh and not particularly nice but the hand he coiled around her neck was almost gentle. “I’ve tried not to want this and it would be easier if it was just about sex but…” He shrugged it off, attempting to brush off what he wasn’t willing to say aloud but she heard it anyway. He didn’t want a strictly sexual relationship, he didn’t need it. “You shouldn’t have listened to me. You should have run away as fast as you could.”

“But I’m still here.” she objected softly.

“But you’re still here.” he repeated.

She didn’t need the tentative push on her neck to lean in, she brushed her lips against his twice before kissing him properly, forcing his mouth open with her tongue. His hands ran on her thighs and under the towel to stop their course on her waist.

“It’s stupid and it makes no sense.” he mumbled against her lips.

It was and it didn’t.

She also thought it could be amazing.

“I’m no good for you.” he insisted, tugging at the knot keeping the towel in place. “Hayden’s right. You deserve better.”

She frowned and placed her hand on his to stop him from taking the towel off. He gave her an inquisitive glance but she didn’t stop frowning.

“While I am pretty exceptional and anyone would be lucky to have me, I do think you deserve me.” she declared, only half joking. “That is not an argument and your brother’s opinion is biased anyway.”

“Remember the time you said we shouldn’t talk about Hayden when we’re having sex?” he asked. “We should make that a rule.”

“Who says we are having sex?” she teased.

She couldn’t help but giggle when he pressed his mouth against _that_ spot under her ear and she squealed without shame when he pulled her down on the couch, finally getting rid of that towel. It took a bit of fumbling and shifting for them to fit on that couch but they managed to make it work.

His breath was hot on her ear and with each of his thrusts she could feel herself slipping away.

“I want this.” she whispered.

She might have had her doubts but at that very moment, they all disappeared, leaving her with a crystal clear sense of certainty.

She wasn’t sure he had heard her at first, not until he pressed his mouth against her neck in a kiss too tender to match the wild rhythm his hips was imposing on her.

“Yeah.” he said.

It certainly wasn’t a love declaration.

But it was enough.


	50. Chapter 50

The phone was ringing and she instinctively grabbed it on her way back to her bedroom, wedging it between her shoulder and her cheek so she could tie her blond hair into a messy bun on her head. “Effie Trinket speaking?”

“ _What have you done with my brother?”_

Effie paused on her bedroom’s threshold, any idea of tidying up her apartment leaving her mind as her eyes fell on the man sprawled on her bed like a very content cat. Haymitch was naked, on his stomach, his cheek pressed on her pink pillow, and sent her a lazy questioning look at her sudden immobility.

“Hayden, hi.” she replied with sincere pleasure at hearing from him but unable to repress a small tinge of nervousness at the same time. Haymitch was suddenly a lot more awake, sitting up and staring at her with a frown.

_“If you killed him and you need help getting rid of the body, you know you can always count on me.”_ Hayden continued his teasing _“I’ve had a few ideas over the years..”_

“He is just fine.” she countered, picking up the discarded clothes Haymitch tended to leave everywhere – he had a gift for making a mess out of the most perfectly tidy room. “Didn’t he talk to your mother just yesterday?”

Or was that the day before that? Effie had lost count. Aside for the occasional party or public event, they tended to spent an enormous amount of time in bed or lounging somewhere around her apartment or the penthouse – although the party at the Presidential Mansion had occurred two weeks earlier now and victors had almost all gone back to their own District so the official Games events were few and far in between which meant they spent more time together than out. She was very aware she had been neglecting her duties as an escort – or what she considered her duties, most of the other escorts were content to find a stylist, go to parties and show up on Reaping Day – and hadn’t called Hayden as often as she otherwise did.

“ _That was five days ago.”_ he replied with a note of amusement.

“No, you must be mistaken.” she frowned, mentally counting the days and drawing a blank.

_“Really not.”_ Hayden snorted. _“So, you kidnapped him or something? ‘Cause I saw no scandal involving him on TV, he isn’t starring in any gossip shows… I’m starting to wonder if he spent the whole Tour drunk in the penthouse.”_

There was a seriousness under the playful joke.

“Actually, he was very well behaved.” she reassured him. “He even helped me make a few contacts for next year. He is very popular with the old ladies.” The one who were too old to have libidinous thoughts about him, that went without saying, she had targeted her rich people. “He can fake interest for their cats better than we do.”

Haymitch probably understood there was no real emergency because he lied back down, clearly intending to pick up his nap where he had left it. Effie watched him with annoyance before surveying the rest of her bedroom. It was more messy than she had ever seen it and most of the mess belonged to Haymitch who couldn’t be bothered to respect that she didn’t like to live in a perpetual chaos. She wondered how so much of his stuff had managed to make its way over there… The more she looked, the more it seemed to her as if half the content of his wardrobe at the penthouse had travelled over to her apartment. They had just been together for a few weeks…

“ _Mama wonders if he’s ever coming back or if he’s moving to the Capitol definitely.”_ Hayden joked but she could tell he wasn’t very amused. _“I would have asked myself but he’s not answering the phone at the Training Center.”_

“Yes…” she trailed off, picking up a navy boxer between two fingers and holding it at arm length. “I am sure he plans to come back soon. I will tell him to call Iris when I see him.” Haymitch opened his eyes at that, just in time to receive his underwear on his face. Perhaps it would teach him not to litter her bedroom cheery floorboard with his dirty laundry. To her utter disgust, instead of looking disturbed, he sniffed the boxer, shrugged and slipped it on. She made a face and vowed not to touch him under the waist until he had a shower. “I do apologize but I am a bit busy at the moment. May I call you back?”

_“Sure.”_ Hayden replied. “ _Just… You’re sure he didn’t spend his days drinking, right? He’s never been gone so long before. Mama always worries too much but I’m starting to be a little concerned myself.”_

“I promise.” she said softly. “Tell your mother not to worry.”

They said their goodbyes and Effie dropped the bundle of laundry in the clothes hamper before crawling on the bed, her good mood and energy suddenly vanished. She snuggled against his side and he shifted to accommodate her, wrapping an arm around her in a gesture that had become familiar in the last few weeks.

“I am not your maid.” she chided him as if it was the main problem. “You should learn to pick up after yourself.”

“Time to go home, yeah?” he mumbled, wrapping his hand around her nape. His thumb ran up and down her neck in a soothing caress.

“I suppose so.” she pouted, burying her face in his shoulder. “Your brother is worried.”

“He’s always worried.” he grumbled. “We’ll need to be careful when the Games start. He can’t find out about us.”

They had already agreed to keep it out of the public eye but keeping it from someone who would share a penthouse with them and who was as observant as Hayden was stretching it a bit far, never mind the fact that he was Haymitch’s brother and one of her closest friend. She was sure he would see through any pretence they could give.

“I dislike lying to him.” she sighed, covering the large scar on his side with her hand.

“Sweetheart, if I have to…” His voice trailed off and he half-shrugged, his hand leaving her neck to rest on her ribcage. He toyed with the light fabric of her top distractedly. “If I have an appointment, he will think I’m cheating on you. There’s a lot he can forgive but I’ve been told you’re off-limit. He already gave me the big brother speech twice, I’m scared next time he will take my balls off and I love my balls where they are. You do too, yeah?”

His attempt at levity wasn’t convincing and she pursed her lips.

“All those secrets…” she insisted. “He’s bound to find out eventually, Haymitch, and when he does… Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell him _now_? I know you were trying to protect him but it’s been _so long_ and…”

She felt him tense against her side. He held his breath for a few seconds and then exhaled slowly.

“I tried to tell him last year.” he confessed with obvious reluctance. “I can’t.”

She propped herself on her elbow to look at him. He was staring at her ceiling as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Were you scared he would be angry?” she asked cautiously. “Because I can guarantee he will but I am sure once he calms down…”

“I’m used to him being angry, it’s not the problem.” he snarled. “Never mind.”

She _did_ mind, though.

“Tell me.” she demanded, brushing her fingers against his cheek tentatively. He was definitely in need of a shave, his stubble was starting to become a full-blown beard. She wondered how long they had been cooped up in her apartment. They had lost themselves in their little bubble so completely she honestly couldn’t say. No more than a few days probably but…

“I just don’t want him to know.” he mumbled, still staring at the ceiling. “I don’t want him to look at me and…” He sighed. “I need a drink.”

She placed a restrictive hand on his chest. “No, you don’t.” she retorted firmly. “I don’t think you’re giving Hayden enough credits. He would never think less of you because you…” She couldn’t quite say the words, acknowledging that part of his life always left her with the urge to stab someone with one of her high heels. “He wouldn’t _judge_ you.”

Haymitch was silent for a long moment but when he spoke next, he was careful not to look at her. “You were different with me after you knew.”

She frowned. “That is a completely different situation, Haymitch. I didn’t truly know you before you told me the truth, I only knew the public persona and the jerk you sometimes insist on being when you are with your brother. If I _did_ act different it was only because you let me in…”

He openly scoffed at that. “Princess, first time we had sex you froze on me, treated me like I was made of glass.”

“I was simply trying to be considerate.” she huffed, lying back down to rest her head on his shoulder. “Capitol people hurt you enough in the past without me adding my contribution to that.”

“Stop talking about it like that.” he snapped. The fabric of her top was bundled in his fist and she could feel just how tensed his whole body was. “They didn’t rape me or some shit. They gave me a choice, I made my choice. Stop talking about it like I’m a _fucking_ victim.”

He was angry now, breathing hard and fast, ready to bolt. She was careful not to move. Sometimes, she mused, he was very much like a wild animal, a wounded one. She obviously had no practical experience with wild fauna but she had listened to enough of Hayden’s speech about survival to know what to do and not to do faced with a rabid mutt.

Coercion was a form of rape and she had seen the damages the previous year, when Finnick had gone through his first special appointment. She didn’t understand how anyone could use another human being in that way. She didn’t understand where the appeal was in using an unwilling body to seek a selfish pleasure.

He could deny it all he wanted but he _was_ a victim. It didn’t mean he was weak, though. Haymitch might have been broken in a thousand pieces but he was still standing, he was still strong, he was still proud and undefeated. Yet, she could tell it nagged at him, no matter how casual he tried to be about the whole _special appointments_ business, how hard he tried to pretend it didn’t affect him…

“If you were in my place and I was in yours, wouldn’t you have had the same doubts?” she ventured carefully. “It has nothing to do with you being weak in my eyes but everything to do with what I feel for you. If I could protect you from ever being hurt again…” She pressed a long kiss against his skin. “Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

“It’s different.” he muttered. His voice was still gruff with irritation but she could tell he was a bit placated.

“Why? Because you are a man and I am a woman?” she challenged. “I fail to see how it makes a difference.”

He pondered that for a few seconds and she just knew he was trying to find a counter argument that wouldn’t make him sound like a first class misogynist. In the end, he grabbed her and pulled her on his chest.

“You’re the most annoying woman I’ve ever met.” he told her, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She grinned at him, nuzzling his chin with her nose. “You love it.”

“Never could resist a difficult woman.” he admitted, capturing her mouth. It was a chaste enough kiss and she settled down on his chest, tucking her head under his chin so he wouldn’t see her pout.

“I don’t want you to go.” she sighed.

It was almost four months to the next season. Four months before the next Reaping. Four months before she would see him again.

She thought it would kill her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 50! That's a milestone! Thank you to everyone who stuck with me so far! Thank you to those who always leave comments and notes! It reallly, really means a lot! We still have a long way to go so I hope you are all ready for more!
> 
> Did you like this chapter? Let me know!


	51. Chapter 51

Could you die from missing someone too much ?

Haymitch was seriously pondering the question, all the while lucid enough to know he was being ridiculous. There were more serious problems in his life than his stupid pining over a woman who was not only a pain but had far too much power over him. It had been two months and a half since the last time he had seen her, there was still another month and a half to go and he was starting to look forward to Reaping Day which was wrong on _so many_ levels.

“Haymitch.”

He startled, looking up from his cup of coffee to find both his brother’s and his mother’s eyes riveted on him.

“Sorry, what?” he frowned. It seemed breakfast had gone without him noticing because his mother was starting to put everything away and Hayden was watching him like a riddle that needed to be worked out.

“I asked if you wanted more coffee.” Iris said slowly. “You’ve been staring at your empty cup for ten minutes.”

He glanced back down only to realize she was right and there was no more coffee. “No, thanks. I’m good.” he mumbled, standing to place it in the sink.

“Did you have a nightmare last night?” his mother insisted. “You look tired…”

“Don’t worry.” he said mechanically.

Nightmares were nothing new. Waking up with an arm outstretched, his hand feeling up what had become _her side_ of the bed, however, was still strange. It hadn’t taken him long to get accustomed to sharing a bed with her. He had been afraid at first, because of his night terrors and the various incidents with his knife and occasionally his fists – Hayden wasn’t always quick enough to escape the blows – but he had been surprised to find he slept better with her. Perhaps that was what had prompted him to seek her comfort even before they had started sleeping together. Perhaps he had sensed she could help. Except now that she wasn’t there, there was no more shield between him and the nightmares and he had fallen back on his usual means of coping : books, sleep deprivation and, when he truly couldn’t bear it any longer, alcohol. He crashed out of exhaustion more often than he slept and he was very near that stage at the moment.

“I’m going to the Seam. Hazelle’s roof is leaking. Gale is going to check it out but he has never done it before, I said I would help.” Hayden said, clearly intending to distract their mother who looked ready to fuss over him indefinitely. Haymitch shot him a thankful glance. “You need me to stop at the shop, Mama?”

He didn’t listen to the list his mother gave him. His head was throbbing, he couldn’t tell if it was the lack of sleep, the steady yearning for another, easier life or the claustrophobia he was feeling more often than not now, caught as he was in a tight web made of thousands of lies. He desperately wanted to come clean or bury it all so deep it would never see the light again. One way or another, though, something needed to give.

“I’m going to the Hob.” he decided suddenly when Hayden stood up to leave. “I’ll walk down with you.”

Maybe fresh air would do him some good, he thought.

“Not for more liquor, I hope.” his mother huffed.

He joked that off and fetched his coat. Hayden was already outside when he came back to the kitchen. Their mother was standing behind the sink, doing the dishes, or at least that was what he thought she was doing. She was clenching the edge of the sink, her head bowed and her eyes closed.

“You’re alright, Mama?” he frowned, immediately concerned.

She jumped slightly and waved him off with a small smile. “Just a dizzy spell, nothing to worry about.”

She was pale though and he didn’t like how strained her smile was. “You should sit down. I will do the dishes later.”

The offer was such a rare one, her eyebrows shot up. “Do you even know how?” she teased, but her face became serious once again. “I’m fine, Haymitch. Now run along, your brother is waiting.”

“I can go another time.” he insisted.

She was stubborn but so was he. In the end, he agreed to go if she agreed to sit down and rest for a while. He left her in the living-room with her knitting and a stupid talk show that only Capitols could hope to like. He truly didn’t get what his mother took out of them.

Hayden, once told, was just as concerned as he was.

“If it happens again, we will call the doctor.” his brother decided and Haymitch could only nod at that.

They walked in silence for a while. It was a fine day, most of the snow had melted and spring was well on its way.

“You’re ever going to spill the beans?” Hayden asked as they were nearing the edge of the Seam.

“About?” he asked distractedly.

“Well… You stay almost two months in the Capitol, you don’t create a scandal with whatever woman struck your fancy this time, you don’t even appear _once_ on a gossip TV show, no drunk public rampage either… And now, you’re either brooding or daydreaming.” Hayden summed up. “I’m guessing something happened.”

“Fancy yourself a detective, baby brother?” he snorted.

“You’re saying I’m wrong?” Hayden replied.

“I’m saying nothing.” he shrugged. “Told you already. Maybe they didn’t find me interesting enough for TV. I did my share of partying just like I always do.”

Hayden rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. He managed to keep silent for about two minutes – Haymitch knew because he actually _counted_.

“What you said about Effie last year, you meant it?” his brother frowned. “About her being special?”

“Effie has nothing to do with any of this.” he grumbled, annoyed at how perceptive Hayden was being.

“Look, Haymitch.” His brother stopped him with a hand on his arm, suddenly serious. “I just want to keep her from getting hurt. If you’re serious about her, if you’re not just planning to use her to get laid then…” He shrugged. “I just want her to be happy. If you treat her right…”

“If she _ever_ hears you talk about her like that behind her back, she will kick your ass.” Haymitch replied. “She might be a lady but she’s a lady with very pointy shoes, I would be careful if I were you. She can take her own decisions and she won’t thank you for acting like an overprotective big brother.”

“Maybe.” Hayden granted. “But you don’t have the best track record, I’m just worried about her.”

“Don’t be.” Haymitch sighed. “She can handle herself just right. She dumped me remember?”

“Yeah, and right after that she changed her mind about going to Six.” his brother pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re keeping her but I think it’s fishy she would change her mind right before you disappear in the Capitol for weeks. I’m not as stupid as you think.”

“Never thought you were stupid.” he denied. “All you need to know is that we’re good, alright? We can all work together.”

At least he hoped so. With each new passing year, it became more and more difficult for Hayden and him to work together. The Games _always_ increased the tensions between them and made it difficult for them to understand each other, never mind act as a team. And with each new passing year, it took longer and longer for them to go back to a civil ground.

Hayden studied him for a few seconds and then looked away. They started walking again but his brother didn’t speak again until the fork in the road leading to the Seam on the right and to the Hob on the left.

“Don’t hurt her.” Hayden begged quietly, not looking at him in the eye, before briskly walking away.

Haymitch swallowed back his instinctive response and turned in direction to the Hob, wishing he could make the guts-gripping fear disappear. Effie was the last person in the world he wanted to hurt.

Yet he was terrified it wasn’t in his control.

°O°O°O°

Could you die from missing someone too much?

Effie’s fork was toying with a piece of meat in a way that was anything but proper and her sister’s discreet nudge alerted her that her mother was glaring. She made an effort to eat her lunch in a lady-like fashion, taking another sip of wine to wash it down. Unfortunately, there were no guests that day and her parents’ house was as silent and cold as it always seemed to be when it was just the family. Lyssa sometimes made the occasional remark on the weather or shared a bit of gossip but their mother was clearly annoyed, their father was lost in his own thoughts and Rufus was agonizing over the boredom that was lunch at his wife’s parents.

“Are you all set for next season, Effie?” Rufus asked, obviously unable to bear the quiet anymore.

“Oh, do _not_ remind me.” Elindra huffed before Effie could answer. “I can’t _believe_ you would let a promotion be snatched from right under your nose _again_ , Euphemia. You could have moved to Six, you could have tried to grab Two or One next year and now… Now, it’s all _over_. I don’t understand why you simply don’t _quit_. You will be too old next year. You will forever be stuck in Twelve. _Where_ is the _glory_ is that? A laughing stock, that District!”

“It was the Head Gamemaker’s decision, Mother.” she reminded her calmly.

Rufus looked sorry he even attempted to launch a conversation topic and he lowered his eyes to his plate, duly chastised by Lyssa’s pointed glaring.

“Well, perhaps if you had made _more_ of an effort with the Head Gamemaker you could have spared _us_ the _indignity_ of being associated with Twelve _again_.” Elindra huffed. “Seneca was _crazy_ about you. He would have…”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Effie cut her off. “Seneca and I are good friends but I can assure you there is nothing more between us.”

Being interrupted didn’t sit well with her mother. “I see those savages’ manners rub on you, Euphemia.”

Effie opened her mouth but her sister’s hand fell lightly on her wrist.

“How is work, Father?” Lyssa asked.

That line of conversation was quickly dropped too and they awaited dessert in a painful silence. It was difficult to tell who jumped from the table the fastest, Rufus or Effie. After enduring another hour of coffee and small talk in the parlor, Effie finally made her escape. She was surprised when Lyssa followed her because she usually lingered longer than she did.

“I have something to tell you.” Lyssa whispered with unchecked glee. “I haven’t told Mother and Father yet, I wanted you to be the first to know in the family.”

Effie frowned, taking the bait without meaning to. Curiosity might have killed the cat but Effie would risk it every time. “What is it?”

Lyssa’s smile was beaming and much more genuine than her usual seductive grins. “Rufus and I are expecting.”

Her first reaction was shock because she didn’t know they had even been trying – pregnancies in the Capitol were _very rarely_ accidental – but when she saw just how happy her sister was, she couldn’t help her own bright smile. “That _is_ wonderful news! Congratulations!”

They hugged each other like they almost never did.

“You will be the godmother, of course.” Lyssa declared. “Oh, I do hope it is a girl! What fun we will have! We will dress her up and have tea parties… Remember how we loved to play with our dolls when we were little? It will be just the same!”

Effie nodded even though her heart wasn’t totally in it. They both had been brought up like the perfect little Capitol dolls and she wasn’t sure how well that had worked out for them. Lyssa was still playing the doll even now and Effie was left trying to look the part while very much yearning for independence.

It wasn’t until later that night that it occurred to her that if their mother had been nagging her to get married ever since Lyssa had tied the knot, now, it would only get worse.

The phone ringing at three in the morning didn’t wake her up, she wasn’t sleeping. The tributes she had lost had a knack for coming back to her at night and she never slept much. That was what late partying and night TV was for, she figured, for people who couldn’t fall asleep unless they were too exhausted to think or desperate enough that they would take a sleeping pill.

“Effie Trinket speaking.” she picked up, already knowing who it would be. There was only one person who called her at three in the morning, after all. It wasn’t a regular thing. She thought it must have happened barely five times in the last two months and a half. Haymitch wasn’t a great talker and there was only so much nonsensical chatting she could do.

_“Still awake?”_ Haymitch asked, his voice rough and slightly lower than usual. For discretion, she supposed. She knew he only called when he was certain his mother was asleep.

“My sister is pregnant.” she said, instead of flirting like she always did. It was weighing heavily on her mind for some reason. Her sister wasn’t much older than her but Effie was doing the math and they weren’t quite working in her favor – never mind that she was currently involved with a District man and she was very sure there _were_ laws about having children with someone from a District.

There was a small pause on the other end of the line, probably because she rarely if ever talked to him about her family. Hayden knew everything inside and out but Hayden was her best friend and Haymitch was… something else. He was so attached to his own family, she was not sure he would understand why hers was such a sensitive subject. When he answered, she could hear the frown in his voice, the weariness. _“And?”_

“And I can’t stop thinking about it.” she sighed.

“ _’Cause you’re happy for her?”_ he ventured, obviously lost.

“Because I don’t know if I want any children.” she offered truthfully. “I always thought I would but now…” But now when she closed her eyes, all she could see were children dying. Sage and Stella, always, because they had been the first, but all the others too. Haymitch was so silent she was afraid they had been cut. “Are you still there?”

A few seconds passed before he answered with a tentative _“Yeah.”_

She frowned, suddenly realizing how that conversation must have looked to him. “Are you freaking out?”

_“A bit…”_ he replied. _“Look, sweetheart, kids… That’s a no-go for me.”_

Any child of his would eventually have been eligible for Reaping. She wondered if it would still have been the case had the mother been a Capitol but there was no point even going there. There were different sort of games in Panem and the Hunger Games were only the cover front. Every time Haymitch let someone close, he gave them more leverage to use against him. There would be no adding a child to that mix, certainly not hers.

And she found out she wasn’t able to imagine herself a future in which he wasn’t a major feature.

_“I shouldn’t have called.”_ Haymitch said and she realized she had been silent too long.

“Not at all! I’m happy to hear from you, I was starting to think you had forgotten about me.” she teased.

“ _Hard to.”_ he scoffed. _“So, what you’ve been up to, Princess?”_

She suspected he only called to hear her voice because he let her talk his ear off, barely cutting her off to mock or call her a chatting box. The short comments were enough though.

When she fell asleep that night, it was with a smile on her lips.


	52. Chapter 52

“You’re really wearing that?” Hayden asked, as soon as he had stepped into the house.

Haymitch rolled his eyes and completely ignored his mother’s triumphant look. His blue shirt might be old and frayed at the wrists but it would be good enough for Reaping Day.

“Why are you all obsessed with what I’m wearing?” he grumbled. “What’s it to you?”

“Don’t come complaining when Effie starts screaming like a banshee about proper representation.” his brother snorted. “She’s going to want to burn that shirt.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes again and muttered something about the geese only to escape his family. He had slept poorly, he was tired, stressed at the idea of going back to another year of losing, and not ready to face any kind of special appointments. As soon as he was in the backyard, he made a beeline for his secret stash of liquor and took two mouthfuls of Ripper’s best batch of moonshine, swallowing back a sigh of relief at the bitter taste. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get _drunk_ but he _could_ get intoxicated enough that the day would be bearable.

Or so he thought until the back door opened and he was left turning around abruptly, hiding the bottle behind his back like a kid caught red-handed. He relaxed when he saw it was only Hazelle but he still kept the liquor out of sight.

“Mama’s inside.” he told her, a little taken aback by her sudden appearance.

“I know I talked to your brother.” she replied, closing the kitchen door behind her and joining him by the pen. “Care to share?” She nodded at his hidden hand. He tried his best to look innocent but she simply smirked. “Yeah, that didn’t work when we were kids, that certainly won’t work now that my own children try it on me on a daily basis.”

With a defeated sigh, he handed the liquor over. “Don’t tell them.”

“I can keep a secret. This one wouldn’t be the first.” she reminded him, taking a sip and making a face when she swallowed it down. “Now all we’re missing are cigarettes. Remember how Mabel used to steal them from her father’s pocket? One at a time so she wouldn’t get caught.”

Haymitch gave her a curt nod but left it at that. He wasn’t fond of recollecting memories of his girl or of their childhood. The memories were mostly good for kids who had grown up in the Seam, he supposed, but what came after… It had tainted everything. Even now, looking at Hazelle sent a pang to his heart. Mabel would have been the same age.

They passed the bottle back and forth for a while and despite his best intention, Haymitch played pretend. Mabel and Hazelle used to look a lot alike : long dark hair, grey eyes, same height… They could have passed for sisters in their teenage years. The only notable difference was that Hazelle always kept her hair pinned up when Mabel let hers loose. He used to think of it as a testament to their personalities. Hazelle had always been a strong person, efficient, businesslike almost – even when they were poaching, she was always the one calculating how much the rabbits were worth and where to sell them safely – Mabel had been wild. That was what Haymitch loved in her. She was wild, she took no _bullshit_ from anyone and she was yearning for freedom. He had lost count of the number of times he had to kiss her silent because she was talking way too loud about the unfairness of it all.

Still, it was easy to pretend it was Mabel standing next to him. He thought everything would have been way easier to bear if she had been there with him. They would have gotten married… He would have told her about everything, there would have been no keeping secrets from her, she had possessed a gift to make him spill out his darkest thoughts. She would have helped him.

“I saw Leach the other day.” she told him. “He works at the mill now.”

“Good for him.” he replied casually. He didn’t want to talk about the friends they used to share or play catch up either. “What do you want?”

One of the things he liked about Hazelle was that she was direct, she was a no-nonsense kind of woman.

“Well, you’re a difficult man to get a hold of.” she stated. “Each time I try to talk to you, you run away.” He shuffled on his feet and leaned more heavily against the pen, embarrassed. She shrugged. “It’s okay, Haymitch, I get it. We haven’t been friends for twenty years, we don’t have to braid each other’s hair and spill all our secrets.”

“We never braided each other’s hair.” he muttered, annoyed at the very image.

“There was that one time…” she teased and he grunted at the memory. Mabel had been taunting about his hair getting too long for months and the girls had tackled him in the meadow and braided it. It had been enough for him to beg his mother to cut it out – which had turned out to be a good thing because he had been reaped less than ten days afterwards. She would probably have been appalled if she had seen him now, she never had liked his hair being long. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Hazelle continued with a strained voice. “The months after Robb’s death, they were rough. You and your family helped a lot. And it means something to me. I don’t know how I would have made it if…” Her voice broke a little and she stopped talking.

“You would have.” he declared, he was sure of it. With or without their help, she would have gone back to work with a baby on her hands and she would have fed all her children because that was just who she was. “And it’s Mama and Hayden you should thank. They do all the work, I just stuff your kids with cookies when they’re not looking.”

“Yes, I know all about the ‘secret cookies’.” she chuckled. “Vick can’t keep a secret. Still, you didn’t have to give Rory a job. I figure you don’t really need a geese feeder.” She shook her head. “Is that even a word?”

He shrugged. “He’s doing a good job and I’m a lazy man. Besides, it gets the geese off Mama’s hands when I’m in the Capitol. You’ve got good kids.”

“I really do.” she smiled. “But you still didn’t have to do everything you did. Thank you.”

He should have seen the hug coming but he still was taken aback when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He hated when people grabbed him, even if it was Hazelle and she didn’t mean any harm by it. He patted her back stiffly and wished she would just let go already.

Of course, because he was clearly doomed that day, that was the moment the back door opened again. Effie’s bright grin lasted right until she spotted them.

Haymitch’s priorities clearly weren’t straight because instead of letting go of Hazelle, he dropped the bottle in the pen and hoped she hadn’t seen _that_. The second it took for him to get rid of the incriminating evidence was enough for Hazelle to step back and glance at his escort with unhidden hostility.

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Effie said with a bright smile that was so fake it made Haymitch wince. “I simply wanted to greet Haymitch and check his outfit. According to Hayden my fashion expertise is required but I can see it will do just fine.”

She was talking fast and much too loud, as always when she was playing dumb, and her eyes remained riveted on Hazelle who stayed silent, cold and very much glaring. She had reasons to glare, he figured, after all Effie would stick her hand in a bowl full of papers where her son’s name was written who knew how many times.

“I need to go back home.” Hazelle told him. “I need to check on my kids. If Gale…” She swallowed hard. “You and Hayden will take good care of him, yes?”

What else could he do but nod?

Effie watched her leave, seemingly transfixed. He was surprised she hadn’t shouted about rudeness and lack of manners yet.

“You’re okay, sweetheart?” he asked, looking her up and down. The veils fashion had apparently come and gone. It seemed to be leather now – and he was _all_ for that – tight green leather dress with matching leather boots and leather gloves… Her wig was a light pink, cut in a short bob that barely reached her chin, trimmed with sparkling thingies…

“Yes, of course. The train was early, I thought I would use the chance to catch up. My mistake, I shouldn’t have showed up without any warnings.” She kept her eyes on the ground, her fake pink eyelashes flickering up and down. When he walked closer she took a hurried step back. “I think I quite forgot to tell Hayden about our new stylists. I should…”

“You should shut up.” he said gently, tugging her completely outside so he could close the door. The kitchen, he saw, was empty but that didn’t mean his mother or brother couldn’t hear them from the living-room. “She’s just a friend. Don’t get jealous on me.”

He had thought she was upset, he should have known better. She was angry.

“Yes, I know that sort of _friends_.” she huffed, turning on her heels with the obvious intention to go back inside.

He spun her around before she could do anything. “She lost her husband six months ago and Mama has been helping her with her kids, that’s it. She’s not interested. I’m not interested.”

“Aren’t you?” she growled.

“No.” he snapped, fed up with her sulking. “Now, if you’re going to be a _bitch_ …”

She grabbed his shirt and _pulled_ , her mouth doing a quick job of swallowing the rest of that empty threat. He had spent the last few months dreaming about kissing her and now that they had started he was afraid he would never be able to stop.

“You drank.” she spat between two hard kisses.

“I’m sober enough.” he grumbled, capturing her lips again. The kiss was messy and a pure torture on his restraint, he nudged her back toward the door, one of his hand running on her thigh, under the hem of her dress. His fingers stilled on what was unmistakably a lacy garter. “ _Nice_.”

“Your shirt is not nice.” she retorted before kissing him again. “It will have to go.”

“You just want me naked.” he snorted.

“That would be one of the perks.” she admitted as his mouth trailed along her jaw. Her head dropped back against the door and her breathing quickened. “But Hayden was right, it _is_ ugly. Now, stop this, Haymitch, anyone could see.”

With a pang of regret, he realized she was right and took a step back. She was much better at collecting herself than he was. In a matter of seconds, her dress was at a respectable height once again, her wig wasn’t crooked anymore and her lipstick wasn’t smudged. It took almost a minute for her to get rid of the traces it had left on his mouth and chin.

“I missed you.” she whispered, once she was satisfied nobody could tell they had been snogging like teenagers on the back porch.

“I didn’t.” he lied.

She frowned for a second, until she spied the smirk tugging at his lips, then she rolled her eyes and nudged him inside. That brief respite from the day’s horrors didn’t last long. She forced him to change his shirt – and he argued for about half an hour but there was _no_ _winning_ against the conjugated forces of Effie Trinket and Iris Abernathy; Hayden had a good time out of it at least, he laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Even his amusement didn’t last long though.

The Reaping was unbearable. It was hot for one thing and there obviously had been some delay in other Districts because it took half an hour longer than usual before they were put on air. The children facing the stage were shuffling their feet, uncomfortable at being left standing under the hot sun for so long. Undersee ordered water bottles to be passed around but Haymitch could see they were all drenched in sweat. He and Hayden weren’t faring much better and he could tell Effie was cringing at the growing spots darkening their shirts under their armpits. She must have been slowly cooking in that leather outfit because by the time she made her usual speech, sweat was pearling on her brow and her make-up was slightly smudged.

She made a quick job of pulling out names and wrapping up the whole reaping. The girl was from town, he remembered her from his occasional trips to the stores, brown hair, brown eyes, wobbling lips – she couldn’t be much more than fifteen and obviously not a fighter. The boy was around fourteen, skinny, with no muscles to speak off and a shirt soiled not only with sweat but with coal dust. Hayden and Haymitch glanced at each other and sighed at the same time. There would be no winning this year. Effie didn’t venture a comment on their tributes once they had been ushered to the Justice Building for the goodbyes but her sad eyes said it all.

He had been planning on whisking her away at the earliest opportunity but the Reaping had killed the mood. At least, it wasn’t Hazelle’s son, he told himself as they said their goodbyes to their mother and embarked on the train. It would be awful anyway but if it had been Hazelle’s boy…

Hayden grabbed his arm before he could make his usual escape to the liquor car. Effie sighed in relief at the artificial cool air in the train and glanced at them curiously before showing their tributes to their cabins, chatting all the while about how lucky they were to have been chosen and how a wonderful opportunity it would be for them. Knowing she didn’t mean it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“There’s no way we’re doing things like last year.” Hayden said. “New rule: no helping Four or another District. I don’t care if Odair can’t tie his shoelaces by himself, let him figure it out.”

Haymitch nodded his agreement. “No sleeping with an escort or a sponsor, yeah?”

Hayden’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that a rule for me or for you? ‘Cause I don’t see how you will follow this one.”

“This one’s for you.” he replied. “You don’t want me to be an ass. I will try not to be an ass if you don’t do anything stupid. Deal?”

“How is me getting laid doing anything stupid?” Hayden rolled his eyes but then he shrugged. “Whatever. I will take anything if that means you won’t be a jerk. Deal.”

“Laly is desperate and Selden just called her a cry baby.” Effie announced when she came back. “Awful manners all around, no idea how their behavior can impact on their survival chances and nothing particularly striking about either of them as far as I can tell. Gentlemen, we have work to do.”

No matter how hard he tried to escape to the liquor car, neither Hayden nor Effie would let him. In the end he sat in a chair and brooded, barely listening to them throwing ideas at each other. The ideas were either too classic or downright bad but they didn’t want his opinion unless he had something constructive to add.

Dinner was a disaster. The kids pounced on the food like most of them always did, unheeding Effie’s pleas for using cutlery. In the end, she couldn’t bear to see them act like starved animals and put her own fork down. It was difficult sometimes, to remember she had never grown hungry and couldn’t understand how it felt like to be dropped on a train where food was so readily available. Haymitch hadn’t behaved much better when he had been reaped. He didn’t behave much better now – even if it was more because he wished to annoy and upset the Capitol’s fragile appetite. He used his fingers when he couldn’t be bothered to use his fork and he dipped his meat in his wine if he felt like it. Hayden was better behaved but Hayden had never _starved_ , Haymitch had always gone to great pains to make sure he had something in his stomach every day.

The Reaping recap didn’t go any smoother. The Careers were all around eighteen, strong and trained. Their own tributes went deadly pale when they saw Two’s boy – and there were reasons to be concerned, he looked like an ox. Haymitch didn’t spot anyone particularly remarkable in the other Districts. Four got saddled with a mouthy brown hair girl and a ginger hair boy who immediately grabbed the girl’s hand – friends maybe, he hoped for their sake it wasn’t anything else, there would be nothing worse than entering the arena with your significant other. Eleven was lucky that year and got two seventeen years old who both looked strong and capable. And then Twelve’s turn came and Effie started fuming about the derogatory comments of the voice over who openly mocked them all for the sweating and targeted her with a nasty viciousness for her smudged make-up.

It was all she could talk about to the point Hayden sent the tributes to bed with an annoyed glare she didn’t even see.

“You’re such a spoiled brat.” Haymitch spat, after a few more minutes of lamenting on her part.

“I beg your pardon?” she hissed, turning on him with obvious fury.

“Good time to go to bed.” Hayden declared, standing up and making a quick dash to the door. “Don’t kill each other. I will have a hard time explaining _that_ to the Peacekeepers.”

“What is your problem?” she attacked as soon as he was gone. “Do you know what that kind of comments will do to my reputation? Do you…”

“No and I don’t particularly care.” he shrugged. “Those kids, they’re going to die and you’re here complaining about what?”

“I have no control over their survival.” she retorted. “ _However,_ my image…”

“Your image, your image… Who cares about your image?” He rolled his eyes. “Stop being so self-centered.”

“That’s rich coming from Mr _Me, my secrets and my ego.”_ she huffed. “I was _so_ impatient to see you and you are being such a pain today. Never mind that _supposed_ friend you were with earlier but the way you are speaking to me? I know you are rude, Haymitch, but there is a difference between rudeness and…” There was only one way to shut her up when she was like that. So he kissed her. She immediately responded to his lips but, after a few seconds, she pushed him away. “Don’t you _dare_ try to distract me from your abhorrent behavior with kisses. Don’t you…” He kissed her again, harder, coaxing a moan out of her.

“Distracted yet?” he snorted.

“You are a ruffian.” she deplored.

“I will show you just how much.” he smirked.

Her anger quickly morphed into giggles when he made good on that promise. The tricky part was to get to her room unobserved but the train was calm and soon enough, he got rid of all the leather she was wearing, completely ignoring her half-hearted suggestion that she should perhaps shower first because she _had_ been cooking in that outfit earlier.

He would probably never ever admit it to any breathing soul but the post-sex cuddles were what he had missed most. There was a sort of… peacefulness in having her body snuggled tight against his, her back to his chest, his nose in her hair, their legs entangled, and his arms wrapped around her.

“Still jealous?” he mumbled against her neck, nibbling softly at the skin of her nape. She muttered something but he didn’t quite hear it. He doubted that was nice. He nipped at her neck harder. “Trust me a little.”

“I trust you.” she growled. “I don’t trust other women. I know all the tricks. I have never been above using them myself”

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “Heartbreaker.” he accused.

“I rather think if anyone is in any danger of getting their heart broken it would be me.” she scoffed. “But if you say she is only a friend, I believe you. It’s just… I have never seen you willingly hug someone else before.”

“I don’t like it.” he grumbled. “And for the record, she took me by surprise. I didn’t really enjoy it, she’s nice but she’s not you.”

She turned her head at that and he took the opportunity to kiss her properly, pulling her closer. He had missed her so much he was still aching from her absence even though she was right here.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” he murmured against her lips.

“I could say the same about you.” she whispered back.

A right pair, they made, he mused.


	53. Chapter 53

The bar was as anonymous as it got, located in a lost street of downtown Capitol, Haymitch would never have found it if it weren’t for Chaff’s indications and yet he could see heads turning as he walked past and he could easily guess at the nature of the whispers he left in his wake. Those people weren’t the Capitol elite, they didn’t see victors in flesh and blood every day.

Chaff wasn’t difficult to find, Haymitch only had to look for the most secluded table. He was surprised to see his friend in the company of a woman though – _she_ clearly belonged to the elite, the fabric of her dress, its cut, the way she moved, everything screamed _posh_.

“Thank you.” Chaff said when he spotted him, pocketing something too quickly for Haymitch to figure out what it was. The woman barely offered a goodbye before she left, shooting him a curious glance when she walked past.

“Who was that?” Haymitch frowned.

“Just a fan.” Chaff shrugged it off. “What do you think of this place? It’s far enough from the Games Headquarters that I’m thinking of making it my home away from home this year.”

Haymitch wasn’t so easily distracted. He watched the woman walk away, certain he had seen her somewhere else before… “She was at the Opening Ceremony. She works for…” He racked his brain, looking for an information he had never truly bothered to register in the first place.

“She’s Heavensbee’s assistant.” Chaff sighed. “Her name’s Fulvia Cardew.”

“Heavensbee… The Gamemaker?” he frowned. “What are you doing with his assistant?”

Heavensbee, as far as he could tell, wasn’t a real player or, if he was, he was operating so far behind the scenes that Haymitch had no clue about it. Unlike other Gamemakers who liked to make a fuss and behaved worse than Careers on their first public outing, Heavensbee tended to keep to himself.

“Maybe I fancy her.” Eleven’s victor snorted. “So what? You’re the only one allowed to have a pretty Capitol girlfriend?”

Chaff was lying, Haymitch could see it plainly. “You don’t do Capitols.”

“Yeah, neither did you until recently.” his friend taunted. “Patched things up with your escort, I heard?”

Haymitch rolled his eyes, letting go of the Cardew’s topic for now. “I don’t know what Finnick told you but…”

“Ah, so our golden boy has more information. Good to know.” Chaff laughed. “My sources come from Three. Beetee told Wiress, Wiress told Seeder and Seeder told me. Apparently you two are and I quote ‘so married, it’s sweet and almost pathetic’.”

“Don’t you people have nothing else to do than gossip all day?” he grumbled.

“We’re victors. Aside from being rich and distilling our own moonshine to keep the boredom at bay, what do you want us to do?” Chaff shrugged. “And you know Seeder, she can’t stop chatting about everyone’s love life. By the way, Brutus and Shella are at it again. Word is Enobaria caught them red-handed in the middle of Two’s living room last night. Poor kid, I almost feel sorry for her.”

The image his imagination conjured wasn’t appealing. “Enobaria can rot in hell for all I care.”

“Still holding a grudge about that thing with your brother?” Chaff snorted, signaling the waitress to bring them liquor. “Well, ‘can’t blame you, she didn’t like your threats either. I would be careful not to find myself alone with her in a dark corridor if I were you.”

Chaff was talking an awful lot even for him.

Haymitch waited until the waitress had placed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in front of them before studying his friend with rapt attention. “Who’s that girl?”

“Which one?” Eleven’s victor frowned, looking around.

“Stop playing dumb.” Haymitch snapped. “You’re acting weird. What’s up with that Cardew woman?”

Chaff made his whiskey twirl in his glass for a few seconds, less talkative all of a sudden. “You know why you want to keep Hayden in the dark? Let’s say you’re better left in the dark.”

“Chaff, what’s going on?” he insisted, worried for his friend.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, buddy.” Eleven’s mentor shrugged. “Nothing you’re ready for either.”

Haymitch stared at him, trying to recall anything that could clue him in but little had happened since the Opening Ceremony and certainly nothing out of the ordinary. The clear favorite that year was the boy from Two, Twelve’s tributes had gone unnoticed – which was better than being mocked in Haymitch’s book. There had been no reported incidents in Training or between the mentors… Nothing that justified Chaff having discrete meetings with one of the Gamemakers’ assistant.

“You’re in trouble or something?” he frowned.

“Okay, since you don’t understand the polite way, I will be blunt: drop it.” Chaff warned seriously. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns me if you’re trying to bribe one of the Gamemakers.” he shot back, low enough that nobody would hear.

“If I wanted to bribe one of the Gamemakers, I wouldn’t go for Heavensbee.” Eleven’s victor rolled his eyes. “Besides, I play by the rules. Not sure you can say the same, now, can you?”

Haymitch glared. What he had done the year Hayden was in the arena wasn’t up for discussion. Rigging the Games had been neither an easy nor a pleasant task and it could easily cost him his friendship with other victors. It wasn’t something he discussed if given a choice. _Ever_.

To Chaff’s credit, he steered the conversation away to smoother waters: that year’s tributes, how ridiculous that leather fashion was, how annoying his escort was…

Haymitch played along.

But he could feel the strain.

°O°O°O°

“You and Haymitch seem to be doing much better.” Effie observed during the car ride that was taking them back to the Training Center after another desperate hunt for sponsors. They should be back on time for dinner but she wasn’t impatient to hear what their tributes had to say about training. There were years when she entertained some hopes that maybe, with a stroke of luck, they could win, but the seventieth Hunger Games wasn’t one of those years. Laly and Selden weren’t victor material. They weren’t even _tribute_ material. The assessment could seem cold, she supposed, but it helped her remain detached. Those children would have no chance in the arena: they couldn’t fight, they didn’t know how to survive in the wild and they couldn’t even follow her tips about proper behavior. She was _dreading_ the interviews.

“I guess.” Hayden shrugged. “Not being with him twenty-four hours a day helps. Moving out was the right decision.”

“Is your mother still upset about that?” she asked, curiously. She knew that Hayden’s decision hadn’t been accepted with open arms. Each time she spoke to Iris on the phone, it was obvious the older woman lamented not having both of her sons under her roof.

“She’s getting around to it.” he snorted. “Frankly, I think she’d rather have me across the street than seeing us fight all the time. Hazelle’s kids keep her busy anyway.”

“Ah, yes… _Hazelle_.” She was careful to keep her voice even but given the way Hayden was looking at her, she must have failed. “How is it I hear about everything happening in Twelve but you carefully forget to mention a woman who is on such _good_ terms with your family she randomly _hugs_ Haymitch in your backyard?”

“I told you Mama was helping out a friend of ours by babysitting.” he pointed out, clearly trying to hide his amusement.

“You failed to tell me she was attractive. _If_ you like the type, of course.” she muttered the last part but Hayden chuckled anyway.

“Are we jealous, Miss Trinket?” he teased.

Her chin instinctively jutted in the air and she looked out the window, looking for an escape. There was none. They were a good ten minutes away from the Training Center still.

“Absolutely not.” she huffed. “Why would I be?”

“Yeah, _why_?” he repeated not without sarcasm. “And _I wonder_ why Haymitch stayed so long in the Capitol last Victory Tour? And why were _you_ so difficult to reach on the phone? And why do you look at each other like you’re five seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off? That’s _disturbing_ by the way.”

She was grateful for the make-up that hid the light blush on her cheeks. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Is it a good time to remind you of our _no lies_ policy?” He lifted his eyebrows pointedly.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” she insisted, averting her eyes.

“Sure, you don’t.” he humored her. “Be careful though. I think he’s genuine but you never know with him.”

“Hayden…” she sighed.

“Yeah, I get it.” he said. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. For the record, you have no reason to be jealous of Hazelle.”

“Understatement.” she sniffed out disdainfully. “I’m younger, prettier and I am better dressed. Not that I would _be_ jealous, mind you, Haymitch can hug whoever he wants, it is none of my business as long as he doesn’t do it in front of a camera.”

She couldn’t say she had been really pleased to walk in on him hugging another woman – all the more so after the train trip that had seemed _endless_ because she had been torn between excitement at seeing him again and fear the last three months apart would have been enough to kill the attraction. Still, she supposed that despite his less than stellar public track record, Haymitch wasn’t the cheating kind – not if he could help it anyway.

“You’re so arrogant.” he reproached, fondness battling with annoyance in his voice.

“Arrogance and pride are two very different things.” she retorted.

There was a crowd in front of the Training Center, people looked disappointed to see Twelve’s team – Effie decided they were probably waiting for Finnick or one of the Careers. The penthouse was completely silent but Hayden and Effie managed to enjoy the calm only for about half an hour. When their tributes reappeared, it was all talk, strategy and reassurances again.

Laly started crying halfway through dinner and ran off before anyone could get anything out of her. Effie followed her to her room but there was no comforting the teenager, the girl finally spat that she knew she was going to die and all of Effie’s protests and promises that the odds were fair and there was no reason to despair fell into deaf ears. She only left her room when Laly fell asleep, exhausted from too much crying. Selden had disappeared too, probably to his own room, and Hayden was in the living-room, nursing a drink.

“Two’s boy made a show during Training.” Hayden explained. “Apparently, he can throw knives and hit the bullseye from the other end of the room. Then he told all the kids from outer Districts that he would all get them like that.”

Effie didn’t venture a comment, wordlessly accepting the glass the junior victor handed her. She hated whiskey – and she knew Hayden wasn’t partial to it either – but there were days when sharing a glass of whiskey was the only thing to do.

“If they’re lucky, it will be quick.” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was putting into words exactly what Effie was thinking but couldn’t voice aloud. Her job was to keep the hope alive, in their tributes as well as in their mentors.

“They might surprise us. We never know, do we?” she offered.

They spent the next hour trying to find an angle for the interviews but their brainstorming didn’t give birth to a genius idea that would save the day. When they agreed to call it a night, they were no closer to find a way to help their tributes than when they had started.

It was late by the time she was ready for bed and Haymitch was still out. She hoped he hadn’t gotten in trouble, she didn’t want to have to deal with a scandal on top of things. Try as she might, she couldn’t fall asleep though, not until she heard the quiet footsteps in the corridor. They paused in front of her door, the handle turned slowly, and it was pushed open just enough for someone to peek inside.

“I’m not asleep.” she whispered. It was enough for Haymitch to slip in her room and close the door quietly behind him. She peered at him in the dark, too lazy to reach out and switch on the light. “Are you drunk? You didn’t have an appointment, did you?”

“Not really and no.” he grumbled. He toed off his shoes and shed his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor before crawling in bed with her.

“Really, Haymitch, how much of an effort is it to pick up your clothes and put them on a chair?” she remarked.

“Too much.” he retorted, wrapping his arms around her. She rolled on her side so he could spoon her properly. In a matter of seconds, her back was pressed against his chest. The position was familiar but it wasn’t as relaxed as usual, she had the distinct impression he was clutching her in search of comfort.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

“Don’t know yet.” He let out a long tired breath that rolled off her neck. “You know Heavensbee’s assistant?”

Heavensbee’s assistant… She vaguely recalled the woman but couldn’t remember her name. “I’m afraid not. Why?”

“I’m not sure.” he answered.

She frowned and turned around in his arms so she could see him. “So, in short, you are worried but you don’t know why yet?” She retraced his features with her fingertips, lingering on the small bump on his nose. It was a leftover from his fight with Hayden the previous year. “And you are asking about another woman while you are in my bed. That _is_ bad form.”

“Is it?” he smirked, dropping a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

“Very much so.” she pouted.

“I should make it up to you then, yeah?” he snorted, clasping her hand in his to expose the inner side of her arm. His mouth ran slowly from her wrist up to her elbow in small little pecks, his stubble tickled the tender skin and she wriggled, biting her bottom lip to swallow back the giggles that wanted to burst out.

“Hayden suspects.” she told him when his mouth latched on her throat. His hand ran on the back of her thigh, under the nightgown, she wasn’t particularly surprised when he groped her.

“I know.” he shrugged. “Just… Don’t confirm it.”

She hummed, uncomfortable with the idea of lying to Hayden. She knew Haymitch was right though and that it would be better to stay on the deniable side of things, at least for now.

“I spent half of the evening swearing to Laly she has a chance and she can win.” she whispered. “She didn’t believe me.”

Haymitch frowned and propped himself on his elbow to look at her. “You do what you can for the kids, sweetheart, but at the end of the day…”

“I know.” she breathed out. “It’s just… _”_

She wanted to say _not fair_ but she knew he would chide her about possible bugs picking up on it _._

“Life sucks, Princess.” he mocked.  

“ _Language_.” She clucked her tongue at him in disapprobation before rolling on her back and drawing out a long sigh. “I wish…”

“Don’t tell _me_.” he snickered. “Been there, done that, remember?”

It was difficult to tell in the dark but she thought his eyes had hardened. She brushed a hand against his cheek.

“Make me forget?” she requested.

“Thought you would never ask.” he snorted, capturing her lips.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't miss my new hayffie chaptered story on Sunday!


	54. Chapter 54

“I shall try to convince Alina to stay next year.” Effie told Hayden as soon as she entered the living-room. “She’s doing a good job with the children.”

_A good job_ might have been a bit of a stretch but compared to what other stylists had done, it was practically a masterpiece. The interviews, Effie knew, would be a disaster no matter how pretty Alina made the tributes look. Laly couldn’t utter more than two sentences without her throat closing up and tears rolling down her cheeks and Selden looked ready to pass out from sheer nerves. She had done her best to help them relax but no amount of coaching would have helped.

“She’s alright.” Hayden shrugged, struggling with his tie.

Effie batted his hands away and started the long process of making her victor presentable. She methodically checked his hair style, the suit and finally, knotted the tie in a fashionable way.

“Where is your brother?” she asked, once she was satisfied. “I really don’t want to be rushing tonight.” The children would be enough of a source of stress, she didn’t want them to run late.

“Still getting ready. I think.” he said.

She grumbled under her breath about Haymitch’s usual lack of punctuality but walked to the mirror on the wall and checked her reflection one last time. She would give him four minutes and then she would hunt him down because she already knew his hair would be a mess and his tie would be crooked – if he even bothered with a tie at all – and there was no way she would let him appear on television looking like a hobo.

The phone started ringing as she was adjusting the golden flower pinned to the side of her wig. Hayden picked it up, shooting her an inquisitive glance that she answered with a half-shrug. She had no idea who would be calling barely an hour before the interviews were due to start.

“Yes?” he said, his puzzled expression immediately turning into a frown. “ _Hazelle_? How did you… What?”

Effie gave up on the flower to turn to her friend. Hayden’s frown kept getting deeper and deeper.

“Slow down.” he instructed. “Did she see a doctor?”

“What’s going on?” Haymitch asked, walking in right at that point. “Who’s he talking to?”

Effie felt the impending doom coming. And, of course, because it was just their sort of luck, it _had_ to happen right before the interviews.

“Hazelle.” she explained. “I think…”

But Haymitch wasn’t listening anymore, he rushed to his brother and snatched the phone away.

“What’s going on?” he asked, completely ignoring Hayden’s annoyed protests. He lifted a hand that clearly meant the junior mentor should stop talking. “What do you mean she _fainted_ and she doesn’t want to see a doctor? Get her on the phone. What? Okay, then go and get the doctor. There is money in the kitchen’s drawer or tell him I will pay him when I’m back, whatever. I don’t care what she wants, Hazelle, I don’t care she didn’t want you to call us and I don’t care she looks fine now, go get the doctor _right now_.”

Hayden was staring at his brother with unhidden anxiety. Effie placed a hand on his arm, hoping to bring some feeble measure of comfort.

“Is it serious?” she whispered, not wanting to disturb Haymitch who was still giving out instructions to a clearly rattled Hazelle.

“I don’t know, she said Rory found Mama unconscious when he went to feed the geese. She said she just fainted and she doesn’t want to see the doctor but…” he stopped and took a deep breath. “Hazelle had to sneak behind her back to use the phone.”

“She should have just gone ahead and call a doctor.” Effie commented.

“Yeah, alright.” Haymitch said. “Call us back when you have news.” He hung up the phone and turned to Hayden. “She’s going to hunt down Doctor Frendus, she will call back once he has seen Mama.”

“She told you more about what happened?” Hayden asked, clearly worried.

Haymitch shook his head. “Just that Rory found her in the kitchen. _Fuck_.”

Effie was very sure kicking the couch wasn’t going to help the situation but she refrained from calling him out on it.

“I am sure it is nothing.” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “Perhaps she over-exhausted herself. I am certain…”

“What do _you_ know? You held out on us? You have a medical degree somewhere in your purse?” Haymitch snarled, glaring at her as if she had personally insulted him.

“It’s not Effie’s fault.” Hayden sighed, rubbing his face, obviously unable to hide his concern. “Maybe one of us should go back tonight…”

“Yeah, _sure_. The day right before the Games start. They’re going to let us.” Haymitch growled, kicking the couch again in his frustration.

“There is no point getting worked up while we don’t know what we are dealing with.” Effie ventured, careful to keep her voice even. “Once your friend calls us back with more news, we will be able to plan accordingly. I can assure you if you are needed back in Twelve, I will make sure one of you is allowed to leave.” She reached for Haymitch’s hand and clasped Hayden’s with her free one and she squeezed. “Everything will be alright. I promise.”

It might just have been an empty promise, just like the ones she made to her tributes every year, but she had a lot of practice at making it sound convincing.

“You’re right.” Hayden nodded. “We can’t get worked up until we know more. Haymitch…”

“Yeah.” he breathed out. “Yeah, I know.”

There wasn’t much time to say anything else because the stylists directed the children to the living-room and everyone had to snap back to their respective role. Effie plastered a bright smile on her lips and fussed over their tributes even more than usual, hoping to shield them from some of the tension emanating from the victors.

She had known ever since she had drawn out their names that the interviews would be horrible, she had no idea how right she had been. Hayden completely deserted her on the mentoring front, leaving her to fire out the usual last minute advices and being reassuring at the same time. Haymitch trailed after them, so obviously sulking that Chaff eventually approached them with a frown. She was too busy answering the tributes’ questions and giving instructions to hear what was being said but Eleven’s victor clasped Haymitch’s shoulder briefly and then wandered back to his own team’s corner.

“Eyes bright, chins up, smiles on.” she reminded her victors when they finally wandered into the audience to take their seats. She had an arm firmly wrapped around their elbows, forcing them to remain grouped. “For the children.”

They tried to make an effort but their hearts weren’t in it. Hayden was closed-mouthed, Haymitch was sullen and Effie was left to laugh and charm the cameras all by herself and there was simply no fighting against Cashmere who was making a seduction number on the journalists. In the end, she simply told the two brothers to go sit down and let her deal with the press and the sponsors because she felt as if she was dragging two dead weights behind her.

She spent some time struggling to get attention and jumped on the _Finnick’s public time_ wagon without any shame, wrapping her arms around his elbow and smiling straight at the camera. Finnick, to his credit, took it in stride and kissed her on the cheek good-naturally, announcing to the world she was his favorite escort. His current escort didn’t appreciate the slight in any way and walked away with an annoyed huff.

“So, what’s up?” he asked her, as they mingled in the lobby, waving at sponsors and very much making a point of _being seen_.

“I needed more exposure.” she replied.

“I thought you had Haymitch for that.” Finnick replied, looking around curiously. “Where is he?”

She didn’t think Iris being ill was a secret but she knew just how much Haymitch valued his privacy so she kept her mouth shut on the subject, deflecting the question with one of her own. “Are your tributes ready for the interviews?”

“As ready as they’re ever going to be.” he retorted, flashing her a wolfish smile. “Don’t try to sneak information out of me, Effie. But I will tell you this : the boy is _good_ and the girl is not only gorgeous but deadly. I have victors material this year.”

“Gorgeous and deadly?” she teased. “Do I detect a small touch of admiration in your voice, Finnick?”

It took her a few seconds to remember the name of Four’s female tributes: Annie Cresta. She had flown mostly under the radar as far as popularity went. The whole town was talking about the boy from Two, he was stealing the thunder of all the other Careers – which was probably why Cashmere was so desperately putting herself out there. On the giant betting board in the Square, Four was ranking in the first ten but they were closer to tenth than to first. If she remembered correctly, the girl had scored a seven at the end of training and the boy an eight. Twelve’s tributes barely got a four each.

“I’m not stupid enough to fall for a tribute.” he scoffed, a little too quickly. Effie had only been joking but the defensiveness made her stare at him in concern.

“Finnick…” she said carefully.

“I’m not.” he snapped. “So what if I find her pretty? She’s pretty, she’s around my age… It’s normal to notice, right?”

“Absolutely.” she offered, as neutrally as she could, wondering if _anything at all_ could go more wrong tonight. She didn’t believe him when he said he wasn’t attracted to his tribute and she could see the heartbreak coming from miles away. She needed to tell Haymitch, to convince him to talk to the boy – or if Haymitch was too worried about his mother, she needed to get a hold on Chaff.

They toured the hall once more, greeted a few people, joked and smiled and flirted until their lips hurt from too much smiling but it wasn’t until they were ready to finally part ways to reach their seat that Finnick spoke about the girl again.

“She thinks I’m arrogant.” he said. “She actually told me straight to my face I’m arrogant because I said she was still a kid and she’s only two years younger than me. What is it with this girl? She _is_ a kid and I’m not, that’s as simple as it gets. She’s a nightmare. I wish you had transferred to Four, at least you could help me get the tributes under control, Shella is too busy shagging Brutus to do anything.”

Effie didn’t have time to argue that Finnick was still a child in a lot of ways – and it was probably for the best because she was certain he wouldn’t have appreciated it. She joined her victors and took her usual seat between Hayden and Haymitch, interrupting the tensed conversation between the two brothers.

The interviews were _long_.

Caesar was as funny as usual and she tried to focus on the tributes, to commit their strengths and flaws to memory but she couldn’t concentrate. Hayden nervously chewed on his nails all along despite her recurrent and gradually more annoyed rebukes and Haymitch’s knees kept bouncing up and down as he impatiently tapped his foot.

She _did_ make an effort to study Four’s female tribute. Gorgeous was a stretch in Effie’s opinion but the girl _was_ pretty and she could see why Finnick was attracted to her. She was wearing a simple green dress that matched her sea green eyes and her flowing brown hair was loose on her shoulders, she was witty but charming enough to take the edge off it and not make her come out as a braggart. However, she had an air of softness around her that had absolutely no place at all in the Hunger Games. Effie dismissed her as an eventual casualty.

Selden’s interview was a train wreck and Laly’s wasn’t much better. The children were dejected enough that the victors’ fidgety attitude and obvious impatience to go back to the penthouse made everyone more nervous than they needed to be. Hayden made an attempt at helping her by summing up the last minute advices they would need in the arena and Haymitch placed his two cents by reminding them to stay as far from the Cornucopia as possible but the tributes were sent to bed much earlier and more hurriedly than usual. Hayden and Haymitch locked themselves in the living-room and Effie was left with the task of final goodbyes, to distribute the final hugs and to promise them she would see them in a few days time when they would be crowned victors.

The lie felt heavy on her tongue when she finally slipped in the living-room, in time to see Haymitch pace up and down in front of the window while Hayden nodded on the phone to whatever the person he was talking to was saying. Haymitch glanced at her but didn’t try to hide just how much he was worried.

“So?” he called out impatiently after a while of Hayden doing nothing but nodding.

The junior victor looked up guiltily. “Okay, Hazelle, thanks. Tell her we love her and we will call back tomorrow. Bye.” He put the phone down and let out a deep breath. “The doctor says she’s fine for now. He’s going to run some tests to figure out if she’s just tired or if it’s something else. Mama’s sleeping now. Hazelle says she’s going to check in every day until we come back.”

Effie let out a relieved sigh.

Haymitch leaned against the bay window, so obviously relieved it made her heart ache. She wasn’t overly surprised when he made a bee line for the liquor cart and poured everyone a glass. For one, Hayden didn’t comment and downed his drink in one long mouthful. Haymitch topped it up again without him asking.  

Effie sipped her whiskey more slowly, watching the brothers drown their previous terror in liquor to the point Hayden’s eyes became glassy.

“Enough, Hayden.” she called. “We have work to do tomorrow.”

“Spoilsport.” Haymitch muttered but he seemed to agree with her that his brother had had enough because he helped him up the couch, staggering a little under his weight and the amount of alcohol he had ingested himself. “Come on, baby brother, let’s get yourself to bed.”

She followed them to Hayden’s bedroom and helped him get into his bed – without his shoes on, a point Haymitch would have likely forgotten about. She made sure he was tucked in and dropped a kiss on his forehead, leaving a pink smudge of lipstick, before closing the door quietly behind her. Haymitch pinned her against the corridor wall as soon as the door was closed. His hands were everywhere and she wondered in the back of her mind if he had changed into an octopus while she wasn’t looking. She had difficulties escaping the hands that groped her and the hot mouth on her neck.

“You’re drunk.” she accused, avoiding his clumsy attempts at grabbing her again.

“Drunk and horny.” he confessed openly.

“I won’t sleep with you when you are drunk.” she declared. “That’s a rule.”

“Your rules are no fun.” he pouted but he must have sensed she was serious because he stopped trying to grope her and stood there, his arms hanging by his sides, a petulant look on his face. “I’m still sleeping in your bed.”

“If you must.” she sighed, faking exasperation when, in fact, she would have insisted on it. Their time alone was too short and too precious to be wasted.

It took an awful amount of time to get him into pajamas but he was asleep the second his head touched the pillow. She didn’t go to bed at once. It was idiotic and probably more childish than she would have cared to admit to herself but she walked back to the living-room, wrapping her dressing-gown tighter around her nightgown, and grabbed the phone.

It rang for several minutes before someone eventually picked up – the someone being the understandably annoyed butler – and she had to wait for five more minutes before she finally reached her mother.

_“Euphemia, honestly, have you_ any _idea what time it is? Our interviews party just finished, your father is simply_ exhausted _, we were getting ready to go to bed.”_ Elindra said. _“Your District did pitifully by the way, darling. Now, I know what you think but I am not saying this to be cruel. I just wish you had an opportunity to put your talents to good use with a worthy District. We saw you with Finnick Odair on the pre-interviews carpet… You looked radiant. You make such a beautiful couple. Any chance he would offer you Four? Anyway, what did you need again? How peculiar of you to call so late…”_

Effie patiently waited for her mother to stop talking for long enough that she could speak. “I just wanted to hear your voice, Mother. Call it a passing fancy.”

_“Passing fancy, indeed. I am usually lucky if you remember to call me once a week.”_ her mother huffed but Effie thought she was frowning. _“You are alright, Effie, aren’t you?”_

“Perfectly fine, Mother, do not worry.” she was quick to reassure her. “I just… I just wanted to hear your voice.” Seeing Haymitch and Hayden fretting over their mother’s health all evening had been upsetting on more than one account. “I should probably go to bed now. Tomorrow will be a big, big, _big_ day!”

“ _If you say so.”_ Elindra sighed. _“Are you certain you are alright, Euphemia? I can send the car to get you if you need anything. It will certainly be an inconvenience but that is why we pay our driver after all.”_

She had to bite her bottom lip not to laugh out loud at that comment. “I am fine, I promise. I will call you as soon as I can. Goodnight Mother, I love you.”

There was a shocked silence at the other end of the line. _“Now I_ am _worried. Are you at the Training Center? I will send your father, just let me find him…”_

“No, no! I’m fine.” Effie cursed herself. People in her family simply didn’t say they love each other or at least not so earnestly. Being with Haymitch and Hayden clearly rubbed on her. “I promise. I have to go to bed now, Mother. Goodnight.”

“ _If you are sure… Perhaps you should come for lunch the day after tomorrow, I can’t imagine Twelve will still be in the Games by then. I suppose you will still have escorting duties though… Well… Bring your victors if you must. It might be amusing.”_ Elindra snorted.

Effie imaged how such an event would go and quickly declined the invitation as politely as she could. It still took her a few more minutes to convince her mother she wasn’t in need of any form of help whatsoever.

Haymitch jumped upright when she climbed into bed, startled out of his dream, and she was careful to stay very still until he was done gasping for air. His eyes searched the surrounding darkness for a few more seconds before falling on her and he finally relaxed.

“Sorry.” she winced. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.” he mumbled, rubbing his face with his shaking hands. He flopped back down on his back and opened his arm in invitation. She snuggled against his side and he held her so tight she wondered at what point he had started using her as a shield against his nightmares. They were silent for a while. Effie was starting to drift off when he spoke, his voice rough – from sleep or from worry she wasn’t sure. “If Mama…”

“Your mother will be fine.” she cut him off firmly. “She is a very strong woman and she is still young. There is no reason to worry, Haymitch.”

“Twelve isn’t the Capitol, sweetheart.” he snapped. “If you live beyond sixty, you count yourself lucky.”

She sensed that, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe her so she simply dropped a kiss against his neck and did the only thing she could do: being there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am leaving next week for exams so I will be out of town. Althought there will be no prompts, I am hoping to get Invictus out either before my train ride back or after so... basically, it might come a few hours later than usual next week. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!


	55. Chapter 55

Their girl died forty seconds after the gong rang. It seemed the boy from Two really was gifted with knives and there was an endless supply at the Cornucopia. Haymitch didn’t know what Brutus’ plan was though, because instead of joining the Careers and his fellow tributes from Two, the boy turned on them, taking them out one after the other.

On the penthouse’s couch, Haymitch tried to focus on his glass but failed to look away from the screen more than ten seconds at a time.

The fight at the Cornucopia was bloody. The girl from Eleven grabbed an axe and started clearing a path for Eleven’s boy to get a bag of supplies, cutting limbs and splitting skulls open without so much as batting an eyelash.

Twelve’s boy didn’t run away from the fight, he rushed to it like an idiot instead, trying to sneak around the fighters to grab a weapon. The axe caught him in the back, he fell and didn’t get up again. Haymitch closed his eyes briefly and downed his glass.

Twelve hadn’t even lasted five minutes. He wondered if it was a new record. He wondered how Effie and Hayden were faring downstairs.

Brutus’ boy killed Enobaria’s tribute in a move that would make him an outcast in his District if he ever won, then he went on to stab the girl from One. Cashmere wouldn’t be pleased, she had been ruthless in getting that girl some sponsors.

Haymitch watched, completely detached, as Eleven’s girl swung her axe and beheaded the boy from Four right in front of his District partner. The girl screamed and screamed and screamed again, her front and her face covered in blood. She would have been next if the girl from Nine hadn’t taken Eleven’s tribute out with a well placed arrow. At least, Finnick’s tribute had the good sense to run. Still screaming, yeah, but she ran.

The elevator chimed at that moment. He watched Effie and Hayden walk in, grim-faced, and wordlessly got up to pour them both a drink. He clasped his brother’s shoulder on the way to the liquor cart. Effie refused the glass and excused herself to complete the paperwork, avoiding looking at the screen as much as possible.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can do that.” Hayden sighed once she was gone, pressing his forehead against the side of the glass. “Losing kid after kid…”

“Told you not to get involved.” Haymitch shrugged.

“That’s your answer to everything. _Don’t get involved_.” his brother scoffed. “I thought Effie had cured that.”

“Hayden…” he growled.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t know what I’m talking about. Effie already gave me the speech.” Hayden rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

There was no talking to his brother when he was in that kind of mood so Haymitch nursed his drink and tried not to watch the Games even though it was difficult when the TV was impossible to shut off.

Effie reappeared at some point with arrangements for the train back to Twelve. Hayden would leave that same night and as for Haymitch…

“What do you mean Haymitch is not coming?” Hayden frowned.

“There are still interviews to be given and I need a victor with me to represent Twelve.” Effie replied calmly. “It might make a difference next year if people…”

“People don’t care.” Hayden spat. “It won’t change anything because…”

“Look, it’s fine.” Haymitch cut him off. “I will come back in a few days. The Games can’t last long. Have you _seen_ Brutus’ boy?” The kid was a killing machine. Anyone or anything on his path ended up in a puddle of their own blood. “You call me as soon as you’re back and you tell me how Mama is. And don’t sugarcoat it like Hazelle does.”

Hayden wasn’t pleased but he left to pack, muttering obscenities under his breath all the while. Effie waited until she was sure he was gone before handing Haymitch a small silver envelope.

“I am sorry. I tried to get you excused. I tried to convince them you were needed in Twelve but…” She stopped and bit her bottom lip, averting her eyes.

“It’s fine, Princess.” he said, playing it casual even though he truly didn’t feel like it. He pocketed the envelope without opening it. It was his first _special appointment_ that year and it was also his first _appointment_ since they had officially started this thing between them. “We knew it would happen eventually, yeah?” He brushed a hand against her cheek, hating the tears that she was making an effort to blink away. “Effie.”

It was as gentle a rebuke as she would ever get from him. It was like flipping on a switch really. In a second, she was smiling and acting so bubbly and cheerful there was no other option but to be swept into her frenzy.

He went to the station with Hayden and their escort, and hugged his brother tight on the platform, instructing him again to call him as soon as he’d see their mother. Haymitch was worried Hazelle wasn’t saying everything or that she had been fooled by Iris’ no doubt recurrent promises that she was fine. Hayden would know what to do.

He hated being separated from his family because there was no protecting them from afar.

He hated _special appointments_ even more.

And the fact that that one took place out of the public eye was barely enough of a consolation. It was late by the time he came back to the penthouse and he walked straight into the shower and stood under the scalding water for more than an hour. It was closer to dawn than dusk by the time he padded to the living-room, clad in nothing but sweatpants. He crashed on the couch with a bottle of whiskey and proceeded to get completely wasted.

He was interrupted halfway there by a set of soft familiar footsteps.

“Do you want company?” she whispered uncertainly.

Even drunk as he was at that minute, a mere glance was enough to understand she hadn’t slept all night. There were dark bags under her eyes and she was hugging herself as if she wanted to keep warm or to comfort herself. The silky blue shorts and the purple top were a pretty sight, he wished he had been in a mood to appreciate them.

“Come sit down.” he slurred.

He ended up with his head in her lap and her fingers in his hair. He loved when she did that, it made him want to purr like a very content cat. It was soothing and caring and it made him feel safe for some idiotic reason.

“I’m going to leave as soon as possible.” he said, words melting into each other. His speech pattern wasn’t the best when he was drunk. “After the crowning.”

“Yes, I figured.” she hummed. “I understand.”

“Sure?” he insisted, coiling his hand around her knee. “’Cause I know it was short.”

“Don’t be silly, of course I understand.” she chided him.

She probably did. That was the good thing with Effie: she was an expert in understanding him.

He deeply regretted the binge drinking the next day when there was a lull in the Games and they were called down for interviews. His head was pounding, Caesar’s questions didn’t make any sense to his alcohol sodden brain and Effie’s nudges and discreet kicks that so clearly meant _be charming_ didn’t make anything better. He was asked his opinion on the Games so far, of the remaining contestants, and it was out before he could keep himself into check: he hoped Brutus’ boy wouldn’t win because there was nothing worse than killing one’s District fellow tribute.

In a matter of hours, the sentiment was shared by most victors in a number of public apparitions or interviews. The audience’s opinion turned around and Two went from being held as favorite to ranking last in the betting books. Brutus was furious, Enobaria was gleeful – she even offered to buy Haymitch a drink and if it hadn’t been for Effie tactfully refusing, he would probably have replied that she should have just stuck said drink where the sun didn’t shine.

The boy from Eleven became the new favorite which meant Chaff had no time for him and Finnick was busy desperately trying to find his girl sponsors, leaving Haymitch with a lot of free time. Hayden called every day to update him on their mother’s condition but they were still waiting for the tests results – nothing was fast in Twelve – according to the doctor, it might have had something to do with her heart. Nevertheless, Hayden was reassuring and promised she was fine, he had moved back in for the time being and would stay until Haymitch came back. The free time was spent fooling around with Effie when they could get away with it, the sex was still awesome but Haymitch definitely loved the cuddling better. When he held her in his arms, he sometimes felt as if the whole world was on pause. It was like a breath of fresh air. It was peaceful.

That was why he was more than startled when he was abruptly torn away from the quiet moment late one night.

The Games were down to nine tributes and the boys from Eleven and Two were making a quick job of making that number go down. The anticipated showdown between the two was making every Capitol squirm but Effie and Haymitch had turned away from the frenzy and had locked themselves in his bedroom. It had been a particularly good night. They were still tangled in the sheets, too blissfully exhausted to bother arranging them properly, he was still mostly on top of her and they were kissing, slow and lazy, his fingers buried deep in her hair, her nails scraping softly against the skin of his back… It was the kind of perfect moment he loved, in which he could completely lose himself and simply… be _happy_ for a while.

The door was slammed open.

It made him jump. He reached for the knife in the bedside table’s drawer before he even looked up and bolted out of bed to face the enemy, cursing at the sheets wrapped around his legs that almost made him fall flat on his face. Effie’s reaction was more practical, she simply pulled the covers to her chest, hiding what she could from view. When he saw who was standing in his doorway, Haymitch’s racing heart calmed down enough for him to get _very_ angry.

“What the hell?” he spat.

“Truly, aside for the fact you have _nothing_ to do on our floor, knocking is not _optional_ between civilized people.” Effie snapped. “It is _mandatory_.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think… I thought Haymitch would be alone.” Finnick stammered, obviously flustered and not knowing where to look. Twelve’s victor couldn’t quite blame him. Between Haymitch standing in front of him stark naked except for a knife in his hand and Effie’s appealing figure barely concealed from view by the sheets, he wouldn’t have known where to look either. Instead of being embarrassed any longer though, Finnick flashed them one of his trademark grins. “Can’t say I’m totally sorry though, Effie.”

“You will be if you look at her again.” Haymitch growled. “Out. _Now_.”

The boy scrambled out without needing to be told twice. Haymitch tossed the knife back into the drawer and nudged it closed with his leg, slipping his boxers on while he was at it.

“What is the meaning of this?” Effie asked, reaching for his shirt.

“I don’t know but you’re staying here, sweetheart.” he replied.

“But…” she started to argue with a frown.

“Look, anything that makes the kid barge in another mentor’s room in the middle of the night can’t be good.” he cut her off. “What you don’t know won’t come back to bite you in the ass and I like your ass just fine like it is so you’re staying out of it until I know what it’s all about. Plausible deniability.”

She pouted and sulked but he didn’t relent and, in the end, she flopped back down with great theatrics and a very long rant he didn’t bother to listen to.

Finnick was leaning against the wall, his lips pursed tight and his playboy’s mask nowhere to be seen.

“You know, for all my joking, this was actually disturbing.” he winced. “I feel like I just walked in on my parents having sex.”

“That’s what happens to people who don’t knock.” Haymitch retorted. “Do I need to threaten you or do you have enough sense to know this can’t leave the penthouse, boy?”

“As if everybody didn’t already know.” he snorted. “I don’t know how you managed to keep it from the medias, you two are…”

“You didn’t come here to talk about my private business, did you?” Haymitch interrupted him, nudging him in the direction of the living-room. He didn’t want to talk in the corridor, he was certain Effie’s ear was pressed to the door. He also made sure that the ring Beetee had gifted him with was put to good use. He had a feeling whatever Finnick wanted from him, it wouldn’t be for the Capitol’s ears.

His mind flashed to Chaff’s odd meeting with Heavensbee’s assistant. He hoped his friend hadn’t done anything stupid.

Finnick’s request had nothing to do with Chaff, though.

“How do you rig the Games?” Finnick asked, as soon as they were in the living-room. He didn’t even have time to offer the boy a drink.

“You don’t kid around with heavy subjects, do you?” he chuckled if only to buy himself some time. “How would I know?”

“You know because you did it.” Four’s victor replied. “You would be surprised what kind of secrets people spill after sex.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the first one who thought about collecting pillow talks.” he sneered. “I’ve been where you are, boy. I _am_ where you are.”

Finnick refused to be distracted. “You got your brother out of the arena, three different people told me that. They just don’t know how. I need to know. Right now.”

Haymitch studied him calmly and then poured himself a drink. He didn’t sip from it, not even a mouthful. The subject was too heavy for him to be anything but sober.

“What did you get yourself into now, Finnick?” he asked quietly. “You _don’t_ get attached to your tributes, that’s rule number one.”

“Annie’s different.” the boy retorted at once.

“Why?” Haymitch frowned. “Because you fancy her? I’m sorry to break it to you but that girl is dead meat.”

She had kept herself alive so far but only by pure struck of luck. She spent all her time huddled against a tree, rocking back and forth with her hands pressed to her ears.

“She’s different.” Finnick insisted and there was something raw, something desperate on his face. “I don’t know why, she just is and you’re going to help me, Haymitch, or I will make sure your brother learns everything about what _special_ _appointments_ truly are.”

He didn’t even try to hide his annoyance but toasted Finnick as if it was a really good joke. “What did I say about you threatening me?”

The kid glared at him for a few seconds and then looked down. “Help me, please. You did it before, you can do it again.”

Haymitch thoughtfully made the whiskey twirl in his glass, pondering the request and just how much helping Finnick was a bad idea. The thought that the boy could go and do something stupid appeared like a much worse alternative though.

“Use the pillow talk and the _appointments_.” Haymitch spat against his better judgment. “Blackmail. Make deals. Try Snow as a last resort. But you better be _very_ sure of yourself, Finnick. You won’t just put yourself on the line, the girl will be right there with you.”

“She’s a fighter.” Finnick whispered. “She can make it. I know she can.”

Haymitch shook his head. “Nobody walks out of the arena the same. Some people aren’t meant to walk out at all. Better be dead than too shattered to function.”

“We’re all shattered.” the boy stated before taking his leave.

Haymitch walked back to the bedroom feeling like a hundred year old man.

“So?” Effie asked, as soon as he opened the door. “What was it about? What did Finnick want?”

“A tip about how to sell what was left of his soul.” he snorted, climbing back into bed.

“What?” she frowned. “What do you mean? What…”

He pulled her back against him and pressed his mouth to hers to stop the flow of questions he didn’t know how to answer.

When Annie Cresta was crowned victor three days later after a providential earthquake that flooded the arena, Haymitch took one look at the girl being whisked off stage as quickly as humanly possible and wondered whose soul it was Finnick had sold in the end.

Some people weren’t meant to walk out of the arena.

Haymitch certainly wished he hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! Did you like the chapter?


	56. Chapter 56

Haymitch hated housework.

Even with Hazelle now working as a housekeeper two days a week, there was plenty to be done around the house that needed to be seen to. He had never realized just how much work his mother accomplished every day. The cooking, the dishes, the sweeping, the laundry, the gardening… He had raised Rory’s salary and now the boy was tending to the garden as well as to the geese but, really, the rest was still too much work and he refused to have his mother do it.

She wasn’t well.

She tried to hide it, she joked it off, she pretended everything was normal and argued when he tried to take over the chores but the fact that she always relented after a few minutes told him everything he needed to know. She had lost weight, she was pale, constantly out of breath and Haymitch was terrified he would wake up one morning and find her dead in her bed. As a consequence, he slept even less than usual and, for fear of failing her in her hour of need, had not touched a bottle in almost three months.

Life, he mused as he wiped the kitchen counters clean as per instructed before Hayden and his mother had left for her appointment with the doctor, was shitty and fate was an even more shittier bitch.

The knocking on the kitchen door took him by surprise.

“Come in.” he barked, tossing the dish towel in the corner. He wasn’t good at cleaning and it wasn’t an outstanding job but it would have to do.

He was surprised when Hazelle’s eldest boy poked his head in. Gale wasn’t a regular visitor of the household – truth be told none of the boys were now, they visited but they would rather run to Hayden’s because “Uncle Hayden is funnier, Uncle Haymitch”. That suited Haymitch just fine, perpetually annoyed and worried as he was, he didn’t think he could bear the constant chatter.

“I’m looking for Hayden.” Gale said carefully, pushing the door open wider. He was acting all self-assured and casual but the nervousness was visible. Haymitch didn’t think they really had spoken since the night his father died. The kid was putting up a good front though, trying to act all grown-up and confident… Haymitch got why when he glimpsed the girl hanging out a few steps behind him.

“He’s out. What do you need?” he replied, waving the boy in. He wouldn’t turn one of Hazelle’s kids away, not when Hazelle had been so helpful lately. Sure she had gotten a job out of the situation but he knew she was behaving out of kindness rather than personal interest.

Gale walked in after a small second of uncertainty, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. It took Haymitch a few moments to place her in his memory. She had been at the mine the night of the accident, she was the tough one. She didn’t look in a better shape than the last time he had seen her. She was downright scrawny. She looked like an underfed cat. He almost offered her something to eat and then thought better of it. She was already watching his every move with mistrust and she didn’t look like the kind who would appreciate charity.

“You know when Hayden will be back?” Gale said.

The girl shuffled her feet and wrapped her leather jacket – much, much too big for her – tighter around her. It had snowed again that morning and he would have bet her clothes under that jacket were thin and frayed.

“Come in and close the door.” he snapped. “I’m not heating the whole _fucking_ village.”

The girl jumped but instead of complying shyly like he had expected her to, she stepped in and slammed the door shut with a sulk on her face.

“I told you we should have gone to the Hob.” she grumbled in a low voice. “Greasy Sae always buys.”

“Hayden gives a better price.” Gale retorted in a whisper.

Haymitch almost rolled his eyes at how predictable his brother was. He glanced at the heavy looking satchel on the girl’s shoulder and at the bag flung on Gale’s back and sighed, wondering what Hayden was doing with all the meat he didn’t need. Knowing his brother, probably giving it out to small unnourished kids in the Seam - that sounded like something his brother would do.

“You know you could get whipped raw for poaching?” he snorted. “I’m not sure your little friend would like that.”

“His friend can take care of herself.” the girl snapped, lifting her chin petulantly. “And I’m _not_ little.”

She was what? Twelve?

“Sure, you’re not, sweetheart.” he sneered, amused despite himself. “Come on, give me your lot. How much do you want?”

He walked to the kitchen drawer where he kept the money and took out the sum Gale demanded, scoffing at the ridiculous high price – he was certain even Hayden didn’t pay that much and that the kids were trying to pull one on him – but taking out exactly what they asked. That girl could use some money, he figured.

He only looked at the game once he had given Gale the money and was actually surprised by what he saw. Two rabbits from Gale’s bag and three squirrels from the girl’s. Now the squirrels, they were interesting. He figured an arrow had caught them right in the eye.

“You did that?” he asked her, impressed.

“None of your business, is it?” she hissed, grabbing her share of the money and stepping out without even a proper goodbye. Gale followed after nodding at him once, barely hiding his grin. “I’m never coming back here. I don’t care if Greasy Sae pays less, I will go to the Hob next time.” she said.

Haymitch closed the door with another snort. Later, he remembered to tell Hazelle just how charming his son’s girlfriend was.

The game gave him the perfect excuse to escape the house later that night to visit his brother. He left their mother in front of the television and made an effort to hide his irritation when she told him not to get drunk. As if it was the only thing he did when he walked out the house, as if it had happened once in the last few months…

“What do you want me to do with two rabbits and three squirrels?” his brother frowned, once Haymitch had flung the game on his kitchen table.

“I don’t know, what do you usually do with them?” Haymitch shrugged, flopping on a chair.

“Well, I buy only one for starters.” Hayden grinned. “Gale played you. Good haul for one hunt though.”

“There was a girl with him.” Haymitch dismissed. “So, what did the doc said?”

Because he couldn’t get anything out of his mother. She insisted she would be just fine and wished her sons would stop worrying – which would happen when pigs learned to fly.

“Same as last time.” his brother said flatly. “Lot of rest and a balanced diet. He doesn’t have the tech or the resources to do more.”

“So what?” he snarled “We wait for her heart to give in?” It was the highest form of irony, he thought, that Iris Abernathy’s heart was busted. He always said her heart was too big. “That’s bullshit, there must be something we can do.”

He slammed his fist on the table but it didn’t help release the pent-up anger. He hated this impossible waiting for the other shoe to drop, he _hated_ being helpless to help. It had been going on for months, ever since he had come back from the Capitol, the doctor was reassuring but he wasn’t optimistic on a long-term basis and it just made Haymitch so…

“It would be an easy fix in the Capitol.” Hayden ventured.

“No way they’re going to allow it.” he spat bitterly. He had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot… Getting in touch with Crane, promising everything he could give in exchange for an hour with their best heart specialist…

“Effie is looking into it.” his brother winced, holding up his hand before Haymitch could start shouting. “We didn’t want to tell you not to built your hopes up for nothing but it’s looking really promising. She truly does miracles, you know, and…”

“What _exactly_ did you two do?” he growled.

Getting a doctor from the Capitol to Twelve would be expensive, there would be a high price to pay. Now money wasn’t a problem but he wasn’t concerned with that favor costing them any money. He was concerned about his brother being pushed under the bus to pay for it. Effie should have known better than to act without telling him first.

“Ask her. I think you’re overdue for a call.” Hayden snorted. “She didn’t say anything but I don’t think she’s very happy with you.”

She wouldn’t be. He hadn’t called her for _weeks_. He didn’t like talking on the phone, it wasn’t safe and it always left him aching for her anyway.

Still, he took his brother’s advice and waited until his mother had gone to bed later that night to dial her number.

_“Effie Trinket_.” she answered after a few rings.

He opened his mouth to taunt her – he wasn’t yet sure about what – but quickly changed course when he heard the wailing in the background. “What are you doing with a baby?”

“ _Haymitch!_ ” she exclaimed, clearly delighted to hear from him. “ _That’s my niece, I’m babysitting for the very first and the very last time. I have decided I_ never _want to have children by the way, at least not infant ones. Did you know they seem intent on spilling everything on you? I had to change three times this evening already. Safia is a darling but I swear if she throws up on me one more time I will go insane. Never mind my niece though, did you suddenly remember I exist? I’m flattered.”_

That last part was delivered in a huff that told him she might be happy to hear him but she was also mad at being ignored for so long.

“I’ve been busy.” he sighed.

_“Busy doing what?”_ she retorted. _“Or should it be whom? I heard from your brother Hazelle is now doing the housekeeping.”_

“We’re back to that again?” he grumbled. “I’ve been busy taking care of my mother if you must know. Not really having fun here, sweetheart.”

_“Oh, yes. Hayden told me.”_ Her anger seemed to have deflated. _“How is she? I have not talked to her in a while.”_

“She’s good for now. Hayden told me something _really_ interesting today though. Want to guess what it was?” he scoffed.

_“That man can’t keep a secret.”_ She let out an irritated sigh. _“However, it is just as well since I was about to call him tomorrow. I settled everything.”_

“Care to bring me in the loop since the two of you made plans behind my back?” he snapped, rubbing a hand against his eyes. Perhaps he would allow himself a glass that night, only to soothe his nerves. He needed to sleep at least a few hours.

_“Not very nice, is it? Now you know how Hayden feels all the time_.” she chided him gently. _“I have been making inquiries. My Uncle – well, he’s not really my uncle but he is my father’s oldest friend so Lyssa and me always called him…”_

“Effie.” he cut her off before she could spill her life story. Damn, that woman _was_ chatty.

“ _Yes, sorry.”_ she continued, not sounding sorry at all. _“Well, my Uncle has some connections and I managed to get in touch with the best cardiologist in the Capitol. Now his services don’t come cheap but you always told me money wasn’t an issue. I can chip in if…”_

“Money isn’t a problem.” he said quickly, not daring to hope just yet. “You convinced him to come to Twelve? Will they let him?”

_“No, he’s not going to Twelve.”_ she corrected. _“That was my first idea but it seemed really impractical. Your District is lacking proper equipment and Professor Torenton – that’s his name – pointed out that if surgery was needed…”_

“Surgery?” he repeated, suddenly feeling the need to sit down. He grabbed a chair and swallowed hard. The idea of his mother having heart surgery was… not a good one.

_“It’s a possibility, Haymitch._ ” Effie offered quietly. _“We won’t know until he has seen your mother, of course, but I presented him with your doctor Frendus’ observations and it seems a likely outcome. Now, there is no reason to be alarmed, I have made some research and, honestly, Professor Torenton rarely loses any patients. Nowadays, with the right technology, everything is an easy fix. I know it’s not the same in Twelve but in the Capitol…”_

“But she’s not in the Capitol, sweetheart, so if he’s not coming to us, how are we doing this?” he interrupted again.

_“Simple, you are all coming to us.”_ she explained. _“Victory Tour starts in two weeks, the train will pick you up in a week and a half. I want you in the Capitol before the Tour actually starts.”_

He shook his head, not believing his ears. “They will _never_ let Mama come to the Capitol. She’s not a victor, she’s not…”

_“Annie Cresta is in a bad shape. Victory Tour is expected to be a flop this year. As I pointed out to Seneca, the Capitol could use a distraction, a decoy if you will, and what better distraction than the Capitol welcoming the mother of two dear victors so she can be treated for her illness?”_ She sounded very proud of herself. She had good reasons to, he supposed. _“I thought I would have to call in favors and beg but they were sold from the start, Haymitch. They need a positive thing for the audience to focus on that isn’t a catatonic victor. Your mother is well-known from the public, she’s loved. It might even get us a few sponsors next year.”_

“She’s my mother not a bargaining chip.” he grumbled but he breathed out more easily. “It doesn’t affect the deal I made for Hayden, you’re sure about that?”

He didn’t think he could choose between his mother and his brother.

_“You made a very good job of making Hayden a nobody. I sincerely don’t think anyone is interested in him that way.”_ she sighed. Behind her, the wailing intensified and she cursed under her breath. He knew she picked up the baby because the cries became much louder and she cooed at her niece in a silly voice. _“My hands are a little full right now. I will call Hayden tomorrow with the details.”_

He imagined her in her apartment with the baby in her arms, wearing those pajama shorts and the silky tank top she tended to wear when she was staying in. Her hair was more than probably pinned up on top of her head in a messy bun… The image was more appealing than he thought it would be. Well… It was appealing for exactly five seconds, then it became downright terrifying – but it was still five seconds more than he had thought possible.

“No ‘I miss you, Haymitch’?” he teased.

“ _If you want endearments you should call more often.”_ she retorted. _“I am not a doll you can decide to play with at your convenience.”_

“Playing with you, now that’s an idea.” he snorted, refusing to take the hint.

“ _Haymitch, now isn’t the time for this kind of innuendos.”_ she warned.

“’Cause it’s making you hot and bothered?” he chuckled.

_“Because I have a baby in my arms and I am still somehow crossed with you.”_ she deadpanned. _“I don’t expect daily phone calls but it has been three weeks. If it had been anyone else…”_

She let her sentence trail off but he heard it all the same. Had it been anyone else, she would have moved on to another relationship.

“I will make it up to you when I see you.” he promised.

_“See that you do.”_ she huffed. Her voice softened slightly. _“I do miss you.”_

“I don’t.” he joked, lightly enough she would know he didn’t mean it.

_“You are rude and insufferable and I hate you.”_ she declared with a trace of fondness.

“Right back at you, Princess.” he smirked, getting ready to hung up. “Effie… Thanks.”

_“Don’t be preposterous, no thanks are needed.”_ she rebuked him. _“I will see you soon. Try not to get in trouble before then.”_

Once he had hung up, he was left with the same aching he always felt for her after a call. It was a yearning similar to the one he sometimes felt for liquor.

He sat there, in the dark kitchen, for some time, simply letting hope and relief wash away the stress of the last few months. There was no guarantee the doctors could do anything for his mother, of course, and hope was a very, _very_ dangerous and deadly thing but… The Capitol’s medicine could do miracles. He had seen first hand half-dead victors being brought back to life. _He_ had been healed when he had literally held his guts in his hands.

If anything could be done for his mother, it would be in the Capitol.

And the fact that it meant he would get to spend time with Effie was an added bonus he wouldn’t pass on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a Katniss cameo! Next chapter... En route for the Capitol! I hope you liked this one. What did you think?
> 
> Oh, while it's on my mind! I have a dance competition this week end so "Fire and Ice" will be published earlier than usual on Sunday.


	57. Chapter 57

Haymitch wasn’t sure how they managed it but the six people talking loudly in excited tones around him made Twelve’s train station look busier than it ever was.

“Would you calm down, Mama?” he snapped for the hundredth time. “Being that agitated is bad for you.”

He went ignored, just like his previous warnings had been. Iris was over the moon at the idea of visiting the Capitol, Hayden had obviously been contaminated by her enthusiasm because Haymitch had never seen him so happy to go to the city and Hazelle was too busy trying to call to order the two boys running around to care about what he had to say. As for Posy, she was making her displeasure at being made to wait in the cold for no reason known by wailing at the top of her lungs.

He wasn’t even sure why the Hawthornes – minus Gale – were there but everyone seemed to find it natural. Hayden grabbed Vic when the little boy ran around his legs and flung him over his shoulder as if it was the most ordinary thing and grinned at Hazelle who was scolding the both of them – Vic for acting out and Hayden for encouraging him. It seemed to be a common enough occurrence because Rory threw himself at Hayden too and Haymitch’s brother caught him with practice, leaving Hazelle to shake her head fondly.

Haymitch wondered briefly if he hadn’t missed something.

“Oh, here it is!” his mother explained, pointing at the train that was slowly making its way into the station.

Unlike the others, Haymitch waited patiently, refraining from asking a thousand questions like the kids or exchanging a handfuls of banalities like the adults did. Still, he couldn’t quite hide his smirk when one of the doors was flung open and out walked Effie Trinket, purple wig and a white fur coat that made her look like a polar bear.

She was ridiculous.

His smirk only deepened.

“Surprise!” she squealed, lifting her arms to the sky, when Hayden and Iris both exclaimed their astonishment at seeing her there when she was supposed to meet them at the Capitol’s station. Haymitch wasn’t taken aback, he had an inkling she might do just that.

Hayden was the closest so it came as no surprise to Haymitch when he dropped the kids still hanging from his shoulders and neck to embrace her. She laughed when he playfully lifted her up and Haymitch rolled his eyes at their antics. It all looked friendly to him, brotherly at most, but their mother clearly didn’t share his opinion or, at least, he thought the painful nudge of her elbow into his stomach was meant to convey that she had been right all along and his brother and their escort were in a sort of secret relationship just as her motherly intuition had told her. Her motherly intuition obviously needed to be worked on.

“Iris! Such a pleasure to see you! How are you?” Effie went on, escaping Hayden’s arms to hug their mother. “Are you excited about the trip?”

“She’s not supposed to _be_ excited.” Haymitch grumbled. “Remember why she’s going in the first place?”

Aside for Effie pursing her lips at him in an irritated fashion and his mother smacking his arm and telling him to stop being a kill-joy, he went ignored as his mother told her just _how much_ she was impatient to see the Capitol with her own two eyes. Haymitch was a lot less impatient. The further his family was from the Capitol, the easier he breathed.

_Finally_ , Effie moved on to greet him properly. Instead of a hug though, he was treated to a light kiss on the cheek. It felt almost dismissive.

“Still angry, yeah?” he sighed.

“Why, Haymitch, I have no idea what you mean.” she replied, studying him with a displeased expression. “You will have to trim that… _thing_ on your face before we reach the Capitol. Do you have a shortage of razors in Twelve? I think not since your brother is as clean-shaved as always. I cannot even name _that_ a beard. I will settle for stubble but _this_ goes away.”

“That’s why I love you.” Hayden cut in, grinning. “You’re the only one who can make Haymitch do anything.”

“I like to think I have some measure of control over your brother, thank you very much.” their mother huffed.

“And he’s always happy to help me when I ask.” Hazelle added.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. I’m a sucker for pretty women.” he granted graciously.

Obviously, it wasn’t quite the right thing to say because Effie turned to Hazelle. Haymitch was sure they were glaring at each other for very different reasons. He wished Effie would stop being jealous of a woman he had never seen as anything more than a friend but, on the other hand, he couldn’t deny she was hot when she was all… _ruffled feathers_. She was very possessive. Just as much as he was probably. He hated it when people hinted that Crane was soft on her even though she had stated several times they were only friends and Crane was well aware of her lack of interest.

“Effie, you know Hazelle?” Hayden asked, diplomatically placing himself between the two women. It was probably a good thing baby Posy was in her mother’s arms.

“We never officially met.” Effie said, more coolly than usual. “Effie Trinket.”

Hazelle shook the hand she outstretched but it was a very short handshake. “I heard a lot about you.”

“Good things I hope.” Effie laughed her fake high-pitched laugh, it sounded like broken glass to Haymitch.

Iris was picking up on the tension, he could tell. Her eyes were darting back and forth between the two women, occasionally pausing on Hayden.

“Surprisingly yes.” Hazelle answered with obvious reluctance. “You are… very popular with the Abernathy family, it seems.”

“So are you.” Effie retorted.

Haymitch wasn’t gifted with a woman’s hidden speech decoder but he thought something had been established in that short exchange.

“Shouldn’t we be going, sweetheart?” he asked innocently, impatient to stop the glaring. “Wouldn’t want to be off schedule, right?”

“Oh, the schedule!” Effie exclaimed, forgetting her absurd jealousy long enough to become flustered. There was nothing worse than being off-schedule for Effie Trinket and, as such, they were ushered on the train so fast they barely had enough time to say goodbye to Hazelle and her children and thank her for coming to see them off.

“Good call.” Hayden whispered to him, once the train was taking off and Effie offered to show their mother to her room. “I have nothing against a catfight but that could have turned ugly.”

“Yeah.” he snorted. “Effie would have kicked her ass.”

Hayden lifted his eyebrows in open surprise. “You’re kidding me, right? You think _Effie_ could win against Hazelle? In an _actual_ fight?”

“Have you _seen_ Effie’s nails?” he shrugged. “That woman has claws.”

“Never mind the nails, Hazelle would have her flat on the ground in five seconds top.” Hayden argued. “Come on, I love Effie but she’s _Capitol_.”

“Exactly why she would win.” Haymitch scoffed. “She’s _vicious_ and Hazelle wouldn’t expect her to be.”

Hayden stared at him for a few seconds and then shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “It’s true what they say, love _is_ blind.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “Shut _up_.”

°O°O°O°

“And I took the liberty of ordering a new wardrobe for you. It will be more appropriate for the cameras and the interviews.” Effie concluded, opening the closet to show the older woman the selection of clothes. “Now, don’t you worry, I am well aware of your sons’ ridiculous resistance against fashion so I made sure to choose clothes that are trendy but not too… _extravagant_.” 

It wouldn’t have mixed well with Twelve’s image anyway, even though she was certain Iris would have been much more receptive to fashion than her sons.

“Interviews?” Iris repeated. She sat on the bed, still looking at the room in uncharacteristic speechlessness. Effie could tell she hadn’t been expecting such luxury, the standard victor’s house she lived in was grand and opulent by District standards but it was nothing compared to the grandeur of the Capitol.

“Don’t you worry.” she was quick to reassure her. “Haymitch and I will handle most of the PR. You will probably have to go on a few shows but I will personally make a selection and I will make sure the hosts are briefed beforehand. I will be next to you every step of the way. Naturally, we don’t have to worry about that yet. The first and most important thing is your health.”

She was very aware of babbling but Iris suddenly looked so ill-at-ease, Effie felt forced to fill the awkward silence.

Finally, after a few more seconds of open gawking at the wooden moldings running around the ceiling, Iris watched her with a strained smile. “You must have thought us very silly when we invited you to stay at our house so you would be more comfortable than on the train a few years ago. Clearly, this is better than…”

“Don’t ever think that.” Effie cut her off rather rudely. “I appreciate your hospitality and your friendship, Iris. It means a lot to me.”

Iris’ smile became less forced and much more genuine. “You are a good girl. I never properly thanked you for helping me. Hayden said you went into a lot of trouble to get me a travel permit.”

Effie grinned and sat next to her on the bed, clasping her hand in hers. “Don’t thank me. Anything I can do to help. I truly consider you a friend, Iris.”

The older woman squeezed her hand gently, a spark of mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Well, as a friend, I think it is my duty to tell you that you have nothing to fear from Hazelle.”

Effie’s smile faltered and she bolted to her feet, fussing around the room, looking for an excuse to hide her face from her victors’ mother. “I have no idea what you mean…” she protested, re-arranging the flowers in the vase placed on the dresser. Red tulips. There were some in her room too.

“A mother knows.” Iris declared cryptically.  

She cleared her throat, wondering if Haymitch was aware, how she should respond to that and, above all, how to escape that topic without coming out as rude. “Iris…”

“Hayden is a good boy, I won’t fault you for falling for him.” the older woman laughed lightly. “There is no shame in that.”

If her smile had faltered before, now it completely fell off. Her carefully constructed mask of bubbly happiness shattered for a second and she turned around to face her friends’ mother, rather stunned. “You are mistaken.”

She had thought that particular misunderstanding was _far_ behind them - as far as any potential romantic feelings she and Hayden might have harbored for one another.

“I’m sorry, I’m an old woman. My boys will tell you I meddle too much  in their business.” Iris waved her objection away, with a fond smile. “I’m happy it’s you though, Effie. Truly.”

“I am not involved with Hayden.” she insisted, her heart racing in her chest. She didn’t know how to get out of that mess, how to make things clearer without betraying Haymitch’s mountain of secrets.

“I would work on that then if I were you.” Iris grinned. “Hazelle isn’t a danger – she’s closer to Haymitch, you know – but there are plenty of other girls out there. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. You’re all he can talk about.”

Effie opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for what to say. She had handled more delicate subjects during live interviews, she had handled Caesar Flickerman and his most nosy questions, she had handled countless of talk show hosts… But _this,_ she wasn’t quite equipped to handle.

She could, of course, outright deny even being interested but Iris was looking at her with such an earnest face Effie could tell she was _pleased_ about the prospect – and as happy as it made her feel to know Haymitch’s mother approved of her, she was very much ill-at-ease – that she simply knew Iris would be upset if she was too brutal. Being upset wasn’t good for the older woman’s condition.

“You should probably rest before dinner.” she suggested lamely, making a beeline for the door. “I should check on your sons.”

Iris had barely finished her “see you later” when Effie closed the door and walked as fast as she could in the opposite direction from her room. She needed to talk to either Haymitch or Hayden and beg one of them to explain to their mother where they all stood. With that idea in mind, she set out for the living-room car only to be grabbed around the waist and dragged in another room halfway there.

The room, she barely had time to see, was nothing more than a supply closet. _How cliché_ , was the last thought to flash through her mind before lips crashed on hers and she was pinned to the hastily closed door. The kiss soothed her frayed nerves and made her forget about why she had been feeling uneasy in the first place.

Haymitch’s mouth was demanding, his hands roamed on her green dress and he moaned when his palm met the skin on her right side – she had chosen that dress on purpose, knowing that the geometric holes in the fabric that ran around the waist would make him crazy. The kiss turned into another and another until the frantic need to _devour_ the other faded into a lazy, more subdued kind of embrace. The kissing turned slow but not less messy and when he rested his forehead against hers, out of breath, Effie knew her lipstick was all over the place.

“ _Fuck_ , I wanted to do that ever since you walked out of that train.” he breathed out.

“Kiss me or fuck?” she asked, faking innocence and forgetting, for once, to correct him on his vocabulary.

He let out a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a whimper.

“Don’t play games, sweetheart, I’m two seconds away from tearing that dress off you.” he warned.

“Who’s stopping you?” she taunted, leaning in to brush her lips against his. She drew back quickly though, because as much as she enjoyed the teasing and as much as she would have liked nothing more than to let him do with her as he pleased, she wanted to make him work for it. She _was_ angry at him for not calling more regularly and she thought there was a lesson to be taught there. “I need to talk to Hayden.”

“Really not what girls usually say when I offer them sex.” he snorted, dropping kisses along her neck. “What about?”

She tilted her head to the side to give him better access. “Any idea why your mother thinks he and I are somehow involved or madly in love?”

He lifted his head at that, propping his elbow on the door so he could look at her properly. “She told you that?” he cringed. “I told her it was all in her head but she doesn’t want to _get_ it. I think she fancies you as the perfect daughter-in-law.”

Given his smirk, she surmised he found that amusing.

“This is not funny, Haymitch.” she hissed. “She thinks your brother and me… She thinks I’m jealous of Hazelle because of Hayden, honestly!”

He suddenly looked less amused. “Yeah, about that…”

“No, I understand, you are not interested in her.” she huffed. “You don’t have to say it another time. I am neither deaf nor stupid. I just…” She didn’t even try to hide her sigh. “I dislike the fact that she can see you whenever she wants, laugh and talk with you every day when I can’t. I am afraid I am also jealous of your brother and mother for the very same reasons but since there are less chances of you forgetting about me and having an affair with either of them…”

He covered her mouth with his hand, eyebrows lifted in amusement.

“First, _ew_.” he mocked. “Second, that’s a very complicated way of saying you missed me.”

“Don’t be daft, you know I missed you.” she scoffed. “I miss you every second of the day when I am not with you. It is sickening really. I fancied myself more independent than that.”

His expression was almost tender when he brushed tentative fingers against her cheek.

“Should have called.” he mumbled, in what was clearly one of his clumsy attempts at apologizing without apologizing.

“Yes, you should have.” she pouted.

He kissed her again and, despite her earlier reserves, it quickly evolved into fumbling under her dress and a blinding bliss that left her legs shaking for a few seconds. She could feel his arousal against her body but when she offered to reciprocate he declined. It was his apology, she supposed.

“Later.” he promised, pressing a hot kiss against her lips, before stepping out of the cupboard. She gave him five minutes – that she used to make sure she was fit to be seen in public again – before resuming her walk to the living-room car.

Haymitch was already slumped on a chair with a glass in his hand when she pranced in, swaying her hips a little more than strictly necessary. He greeted her with a silent toast and a smirk.

Hayden, who was standing at the window watching the landscape flash by, studied her and then grinned knowingly. She was startled once again by how happy he seemed to be about the prospect of her and Haymitch being together and it made her dread even more the next public _special appointment_ Haymitch would have. As long as they could keep them from Hayden, everything would be alright but if one of them required public exposure… The two brothers seemed to get along better those days and she didn’t want to be responsible for another feud.

“So.” she declared, clapping her hands once in the way that they had come to learn meant business. “Hayden, any idea how to convince your mother you and I are not about to announce our engagement to  the world?”

“Sure.” Hayden snorted. “Tell her you’re shagging Haymitch instead.”

“Don’t toss your messes on me, baby brother.” Haymitch protested. “You’re the one who keeps going on and on about Effie.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s better when you stare at her like you’re picturing her naked.” Hayden retorted.

“I am standing _right here_.” Effie hissed. “And that is _no_ _way_ to talk about a lady.” Haymitch opened his mouth – she just knew he would dispute the ‘lady’ – but she lifted a hand. “ _Don’t_.” He wisely fell silent.

“You’re so _whipped_.” Hayden chuckled. He sounded very happy about that.

“You’re deluded.” Haymitch scorned. “We told you enough times you’re imagining things.”

“I’m not imagining the hickey on Effie’s neck.” his brother’s shrugged.

Effie’s eyes widened in horror and she instinctively pressed a hand on the spot Haymitch had been nibbling on earlier – she _had_ _told_ him not to leave any marks. The area wasn’t tender to the touch though and, given the way Haymitch rolled his eyes and the proud grin on Hayden’s lips, she guessed there had been no mark to begin with but that her automatic reaction had given her away.

“Busted.” Hayden taunted, ignoring his brother’s denials.


	58. Chapter 58

His mother was overwhelmed by the welcoming committee at the Capitol station, Haymitch could tell.

There were good reasons to be. Given the size of the crowd, you would think they were expecting Finnick or another very popular victor – Haymitch was famous but not just _that_ famous anymore – not the mother of Twelve’s two mentors. When she had said the Capitol was planning on using Iris as a decoy to shift the attention away from a Victory Tour that was bound to be a flop, Effie hadn’t been kidding.

It made him wonder, and not for the first time, if the price for a proper doctor wasn’t too high.

His mother wasn’t used to such exposure and he knew just from her tensed posture that she was feeling very awkward faced with the crowd of people shouting her name, Haymitch’s, Effie’s and, occasionally, even Hayden’s – _that_ hadn’t happened in a while either, Hayden had his fans of course but there were very few and generally kept to themselves.

The numerous flashes and questions coming from everywhere made Haymitch wish he had gotten another drink before leaving the train. There was no way to avoid putting his mother on display, of course - that was why the Capitol had agreed to let her come in the first place - but Effie handled that very well, standing right next to Iris while his mother answered the journalists’ questions in a shaky voice and taking over when she was at a loss for what to say. Hayden stood right on her other side and cut in when he thought necessary. Haymitch began the long and tedious process of taking the attention away from his family by acting like the playboy they all thought he was. He signed autographs, he took pictures, he grinned and winked and flirted until he felt sick to his stomach…

Effie made a show of tearing him away from his fans and the good-natured bickering delighted their audience enough that they managed to make their escape to the expensive slick black car parked in front of the station.

“That was madness.” Hayden commented with a relieved sigh, once their mother was safely in the car and he was sitting right next to her.

Effie and Haymitch sat facing them, forcing themselves to smile right up until the car doors were closed and the flashes died away. He stretched his arm on the back of the seat unconsciously, Effie’s neck settled against his forearm, the strands of her purple wig clashing with the dark blue of his jacket. Hayden lifted an eyebrow but their mother didn’t notice anything. She was silent.

“You’re okay, Mama?” Haymitch asked, worried.

She promised she was but he couldn’t decide if it was a lie meant to placate him or the truth. She looked through the window, apparently enthralled by what she was discovering.

“I will take you on a tour when you feel better.” Effie offered. “I know you will _love_ the city.”

Haymitch very much doubted she would. Everything in the Capitol was fake, so foreign from what they were used to in Twelve that it seemed surreal. He and Hayden exchanged a glance and he knew they were on agreement on that. She might appreciate the trip and she would probably be strangely fascinated by the Capitol – all District people were at first – but she would certainly not _love_ the carelessness of the Capitol people, the relentless waste of food or even the constant judging and keeping tabs.

“So what’s the deal with Cresta?” Hayden asked, eager to switch topic. “You said they would use this as a com operation but I didn’t expect something so… _big_. They must be really desperate.”

Effie clearly debated with herself for several seconds, her blue eyes darting from Hayden to Iris, obviously weighing out how upsetting what she was about to impart would be for their mother who already had a difficult morning. In the end, she must have decided that Iris wouldn’t care too much for someone she had never met because she finally spilled the beans.

“It is very _hush hush_ and not everyone is aware in the Games business. I only know because Seneca told me.” she explained. Haymitch bristled at the mention of the Head Gamemaker but her hand quickly brushed his thigh. It barely lasted a second, it was short enough to be taken as an involuntary gesture, but it was enough to appease him slightly. “I don’t imagine they will be able to hide it much longer either. There are bound to be questions when Annie doesn’t take up mentoring alongside Finnick next year, it is traditional for the newest victor to come to the Capitol after all and…”

“You’re going to tell us anytime this week?” Haymitch snorted.

“ _Manners_.” Effie snapped at the very same moment Iris said “I didn’t raise you to be rude, Haymitch.”

Hayden looked down but it wasn’t difficult to guess his sudden coughing was nothing but disguised chuckles.

“Word is, Annie Cresta is insane.” she declared finally.

Haymitch rolled his eyes.

“How is that news?” he snorted. “Aside for Hayden, I don’t know a single victor who’s not insane in some way.”

“Is that why you’re always trying to make me go crazy?” Hayden scoffed. “’Cause you think I’m still sane?”

“I’m _hurt_ , baby brother.” Haymitch retorted, placing a hand on his heart as if deeply wounded.

Iris watched them both in turn with a fond smile, even Effie looked amused. He knew why: that kind of light banter between them – even though more frequent lately – was rare enough. 

“What about Finnick?” he asked, bringing the conversation back on the topic at hand.

“Out of his depth from what I understood.” Effie winced. “I might be wrong but I think Mags is taking Shella’s place on the Tour.”

“Mags?” he frowned. “Is she well enough for that? Last I heard she was barely learning to walk again…”

Effie lifted her hands to convey her ignorance. “All I know is that Victory Tour’s events will be kept to a minimum: speeches and dinners. No touring of the Districts and no more interviews than strictly necessary. The events in the Capitol are reduced to the party at the President’s mansion and the invitations are restricted. You have been issued one and I have not by the way so you are taking me, it is a perfect way to meet influent sponsors.”

“If you want a date, you just have to ask, sweetheart.” he teased.

“Don’t be preposterous.” she huffed but there was a grin tugging at her lips.

Hayden snorted and Haymitch wasn’t sure but he thought their mother’s stare was insistent and, perhaps, perceptive at last.

The arrival at the Training Center was another public ordeal that Haymitch and Effie tried to handle at the best of their capacity while Hayden ushered their mother inside. By the time he and his escort managed to escape the crowd, the lobby was empty. Figuring, Hayden must have taken Iris directly to the penthouse, they stepped in an elevator.

“Too much publicity.” Haymitch said when the elevator was almost to the twelfth floor. “You know…”

“I do.” she sighed. “I tried to shift the focus on your mother but…”

“Yeah.” he interrupted. With the focus on Twelve and Finnick out of the Capitol for the entire Tour, he would be a favorite and he knew what that meant in the city.

“Cashmere and Gloss are expected to arrive in a few days…” she offered. “Perhaps…”

She let her voice trail off and he snorted bitterly.

“Is that what we came down to?” he asked. “Hoping they will pay for twenty years old instead of me?”

He would be lying if he pretended he wasn’t though. He had no real affinities with the Careers and even though he felt guilty for thinking it… He would rather take the guilt than the _appointments_.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered.

“Don’t be stupid.” he grumbled, harsher than he intended to. It wasn’t her fault and he wasn’t in any mood to commiserate with her misplaced guilt. He wasn’t in any mood to talk about _special appointments_ either truth be told. He had never had to do that while his mother was next door. “You’re staying at the penthouse?”

She never did when the Games weren’t in session but…

“Yes. I convince them it would be better.” she flashed him a cunning grin.

“Good.” he smirked. At least, that was something, he supposed.

It quickly appeared obvious once they reached the penthouse that Iris was feeling as out of place as any tribute. She didn’t dare touch anything, she sat at the very edge of the couch and, just like she had done on the train, she watched the lavish displays of refined food with wide eyes. Effie fussed over her, worried that the dishes weren’t to her satisfaction and constantly enquiring if she needed anything else. Hayden was adding his own questions – or rather the same question repeated at least twenty times over the course of the day: was she alright? Their mother was overwhelmed enough as it was so Haymitch settled for watching her like a hawk.

“I understand why you love it so much now.” Iris told him that night, after dinner. “Such luxury…” 

“Trust me, Mama, there’s no place like home.” he argued.

The appointment with the heart specialist was scheduled early the next morning and the train journey had taken its toll on them, no one lingered in the living-room that night. Haymitch waited half an hour in his bedroom, just to make sure everyone had properly gone to bed, before sneaking out to Effie’s, wearing nothing but a loose pair of sweatpants. There was tactical advantages to using her room: it was the furthest away and it had no walls in common with his brother’s.

She was sitting at her dressing table, clad in her glossy pink dressing gown, busy brushing her hair. He closed the door softly, careful not to make any suspicious noise and flopped on his back on her bed, watching her finishing up her nightly ritual of creams, lotions and whatever _shit_ she thought she needed to be pretty. She never believed him when he told her she was beautiful as she was.

“Your doctor, he’s good, yeah?” he asked with a frown. He would have been lying if he had said he wasn’t worried. He was worried out of his mind. If anything, anything _at all_ , happened to his mother… He wasn’t sure he could bear the thought.

“He is the best in Panem.” she answered softly, turning on the stool to look at him. He focused his attention on the brush she kept sliding through her hair with obvious distraction. “If anyone can help Iris, it is him.”

“Okay.” he breathed out. He trusted her. If she said that doctor was the best then he was. It didn’t stop him from worrying. He closed his eyes and forced himself to swallow even though his mouth was parched. The stress of the past months and the upcoming weeks – that would, no-doubt, be stressful – made him yearn for a bottle. _Getting wasted_ … He was dreaming of it. Lose himself in the familiar vapors of liquor… Drink until he forgot everything up to his name… It had been too long.

“Haymitch…” she whispered gently.

He hadn’t heard her stand up but he felt her soft weight settle over his thighs. He opened his eyes, not surprised to find her straddling him. Other women – any Capitol woman he knew and probably some from the District too – would have expected something out of him but Effie simply rested her hands on his stomach, an inch below the scar.

“I promise you we will do everything we can.” she said, very seriously. “Whatever is necessary to help your mother, be it surgery, treatment or medication, I will make sure she has access to it. I _promise_. She will be fine.”

“You don’t know that.” he objected, running his hands on her legs – not to start anything but because he needed to touch her, he thought better when he was in contact with her skin. “You can’t make that kind of promises, sweetheart. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

Her eyes darkened briefly at the not so veiled reference to the tributes they had lost and would continue to lose.

“You know me, I am an optimist at heart.” she replied with a fake smile that belonged on the painted face of the escort and not on _Effie_ ’s pink lips.

“Whatever helps you cope.” he shrugged. He rather thought she was a realist who couldn’t accept it but he held his tongue on the subject. She had stayed in Twelve because he had asked repeatedly. She could have been in a better District by now, in a team that might have actual chances of winning, all the more with her gifts for PR, with tributes who weren’t doomed to end up between wooden planks on a train back to their family.

“Let me change and we will go to bed.” she sighed, bringing that line of conversation to an end.

He liked how domestic she made that sound, how _casual_. He liked to live in this little fantasy in which they had normal lives in a world where Panem was a free country. If only those Capitol women who were so eager to take him to bed in a desperate attempt at forgetting the banality of their everyday lives knew just how much he _craved_ that banality… He would have done everything not to be the victor, for Effie not to be the escort, for his bother to have a happy family of his own and for his mother not to get so worked up over her sons. He couldn’t get it out of his mind that he was responsible for her heart failing, that it was the result of years of getting upset at his public stunts.

“Why change?” he asked, letting his hands run higher on her legs. “What have you got under that?”

He had thought she was ready for sleep. Brushing her hair was usually the last thing she did before climbing into bed.

She bit her bottom lip, half uncertain and half amused. “Well… It was a treat but I’m not sure the mood is right, maybe another time.”

His right hand sneaked under the hem of her silk dressing gown and up to her hipbone – there was a hickey there from the previous night, he liked the idea of her bearing his mark, even out of sight, as primitive as it sounded – and his fingers met nothing but the tell-tale feeling of lace. She was wearing panties but no nightgown.

“Show me.” he demanded, his mouth parched for much different reasons now.

“Are you certain?” she teased, her fingers toying with her belt.

“Playing it coy isn’t your style.” he mocked.

With an irritated huff, she let the pink dressing gown fall from her shoulders until it pooled around her, half on his legs. He didn’t notice. There was no noticing anything when she was wearing red lacy lingerie.

_She’s so_ fucking _beautiful_ , he thought. He brushed his knuckles along her ribs which prompted her to take an instinctive intake of breath…

“How are you mine?” he asked, more sincerely than he was comfortable with.

She was beautiful and caring and smart and, yes, she was also a Capitol escort and that was probably the most _fucked up_ situation he could have gotten himself into but she was broken in so many ways he felt she had paid the price for accepting that job. He didn’t mind that she was broken and, as annoying as they were, he didn’t even mind her flaws and quirks so much anymore. She was the first person in a long time who had seen him laid bare both metaphorically and literally and had accepted him with everything he carried. She had seen him at his lowest and she was still there. She knew he was the Capitol’s fuck toy and she didn’t resent him or judge him for it. Sometimes, he thought Chaff was right, that she was too perfect and therefore must have been a trap in which he had fallen face first. That never lasted long though. He _knew_ Effie. He was confident that he knew her just as well as she knew him.

“Luck.” she deadpanned, nodding very seriously even though she was fighting a grin.

He snorted, grabbed her around the waist and rolled them over, shushing her loud squeal with a hot kiss.

In the end, she never got so far as putting her pajamas on. They slept naked, in tangled sheets, their sweaty skins flushed tight against each other – or rather Effie slept and Haymitch stared at the ceiling, hitching to sneak out for a glass but knowing he couldn’t afford to be anything but sharp the next day. It was a good thing he wasn’t asleep because Effie started whimpering and thrashing in her sleep at some point. He woke her up from the building nightmare but he didn’t ask what it was about or if she wanted to talk about it. He didn’t see the point, he knew what – or _who –_ was waiting for her in her dreams. They had lost ten tributes together already. It wasn’t even close to the number of kids Haymitch had watched being killed in the arena, never mind Hayden who always made a point of getting to know them. He didn’t know how his brother did it, managed to _bear_ it… Haymitch certainly never could.

He didn’t know how much longer Effie would be able to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! ;)


	59. Chapter 59

The private clinic waiting room was a very depressing place, Effie mused, following the hard lines of the surrounding architecture with her eyes. One wall was made entirely of a glass so translucent it might as well have been a force field. The building loomed over the city, higher even maybe than the penthouse floor, and only looking at the view made her feel sick with vertigo. The rest of the room was white: the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the chairs, the tables… The only splashes of color, almost out of place in that cold environment, were the glossy magazines and them.

Haymitch had gone with his mother but Hayden and Effie had stayed behind. Hayden so the doctor’s office wouldn’t be crowded and Effie because as much as she cared about Iris, she didn’t want to intrude further than she already had.

Hayden was standing next to the bay window, looking at the streets below without seeing them, chewing on his thumbnail. With a sigh, Effie stood up and walked closer, struggling not to look down. She wasn’t usually afraid of heights but the feeling that no glass was keeping them safe made her uneasy. The junior victor didn’t even hear her approach, he didn’t make any sign at all that he even knew she was there until she gently whacked his hand away from his mouth.

“Bad form.” she chided him. “Don’t make me schedule a manicure for you.” He flashed her a small smile but it was forced and not at all genuine. She placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Everything is going to be fine.” she promised. “You will see.”

“I’m joking around and trying to keep the spirit up but…” he shrugged. “If anything happens to Mama…”

She wondered how the two brothers could be so blind to their similitude. They always claimed they were as different from each other as could be but the truth of it was, at heart, they were the same.

“Nothing will happen to your mother.” she replied softly but firmly.

He glanced at her then went back to staring at the Capitol streets unfolding below. “Sometimes I think she’s the only thing keeping me and Haymitch together. If she dies…”

“She is not.” Effie frowned. “Haymitch is your brother and he loves you just as much as you love him. Do _not_ be ridiculous, Hayden, you told me yourself things were getting better between the two of you.” 

“Because of you.” Hayden chuckled. “Because whatever you did to him, you brought back the real Haymitch. He doesn’t drink as much, he’s nicer and he doesn’t act so much like a prick when you’re around. When was the last time he even had a public affair?” He shook his head and gave another tiny shrug. “You’re good for him and I appreciate that but Mama… Mama ties us together. She’s what bounds us.”

“You are giving me entirely too much credit.” Effie replied, hoping the make-up was concealing the light blush she could feel creeping on her cheeks. “And Haymitch and I already told you…”

“Yeah, I don’t get why you don’t just admit it.” he scoffed. “To me at least. I understand why you don’t want that out there, the medias would have a field day, but it’s _me_ , Effie. I’m family. You can tell _me_.”

It probably would have been the time to wove another clever lie but Haymitch was better at that than she was so, instead, she simply sighed. “It is complicated.”

“It always is with him, isn’t it?” he sneered. “He’s a drama queen.”

“Don’t say that.” she rebuked him quietly.

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t know half of it? That’s what you _always_ say and I can’t figure out what you mean.” He folded his arms in front of him and leaned his back against the window to study her. She wanted to tell him not to because it only increased her dizziness but she held her tongue, yielding to his inspection but presenting nothing more than the smooth mast of the bubbly escort. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked. “What’s Haymitch hiding from me?”

“I think we should focus on your mother’s health.” she deflected.

“He’s _my_ brother.” Hayden spat. “If there’s something I should know…”

“ _If_ there were something you should know, it wouldn’t be my place to say it, would it?” she snapped.

“Depends which one of us you’re more loyal to.” he pointed out.

She was annoyed by his refusals to drop the subject and frustrated with how complicated the situation was. It was ridiculous to keep lying. She knew that, she knew _Chaff_ had told Haymitch as much a thousand times, she knew _Finnick_ thought it amazing that Hayden was still in the dark about what was happening behind the scene, and she wondered just how long Haymitch could go on paying everyone to keep their mouth shut without running out of money. It _was_ ridiculous.

_I tried to tell him last year. I can’t,_ he had said, _I just don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to look at me and…_

Haymitch was ashamed.

There was no reason to be, in her opinion, but that was the plain truth he couldn’t bring himself to admit, even to her: Haymitch was ashamed. It was humiliating to him to be sold and used – and it would be for anyone, she mused – and he didn’t want to add to that humiliation by telling his family. She could understand that. She could _respect_ that. Was Hayden bound to find out eventually? Certainly. But Haymitch could tell him in his own time.

“That is very much not the point.” she declared. “You and me are friends just like Haymitch and me are friends. I don’t babble to him about everything you confide in me, so I think he is entitled the same courtesy.”

He looked at her, clearly irritated, but then he looked down, his shoulders slouching. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“You are worried about your mother. It is understandable.” she granted.

He glanced at her and she saw his eyes were brighter than usual. “I really don’t know what I will do if Mama… She raised us up all alone. She was always there. I…”

He breathed out abruptly, obviously trying to control himself and Effie stepped in his space without having to think twice about it. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. He held her even tighter, buried his face in her neck and worked on keeping his breathing even. It broke her heart and she truly hoped Iris would be alright in the end because her death would devastate her sons. She was still hugging Hayden, one of her hand absent-mindedly running through his hair to soothe him, when Haymitch and Iris appeared.

She met Haymitch’s eyes right away over his brother’s shoulder. He simply frowned before slightly lifting his eyebrows in a silent question. She forced herself to give him a small smile and a tiny shake of the head to indicate it was nothing – or at least she hoped it was nothing – and that Hayden would be alright.

Of course, then she saw the way Iris was looking at her and her younger son and Effie inwardly cringed. That wouldn’t help convince the woman there was nothing going on between Hayden and her.

Not that it mattered compared to the news Haymitch imparted on them.

Iris would be admitted in the clinic right away and kept under watch for a few days up until the surgery the doctor had just insisted was necessary.

“They’re going to patch my heart up.” Iris joked, nudging their sons’ escort, with more confidence than she felt, Effie could tell. “Wouldn’t that come in handy after a breakup?”

She forced herself to laugh but the tension was getting to her.

They only left with many promises to come back as soon as possible once they had made sure Iris was settled in her hospital room and had everything she needed. On the ride back to the Training Center, Hayden asked Haymitch about what had been said in the doctor’s office and, for once, Haymitch gave it to him straight despite his tendency to lie to his brother to protect him. Effie was proud of him for that. She was less happy to learn how dangerous the surgery would be and that the chances, while good, were still not as high as they would have liked.

The day only got worse when the Avox discreetly gave her a grey envelope as soon as they were back to the penthouse. Haymitch took it from her fingers and slipped it in his pocket without a word or a look. It was only the first of many.

They developed a routine over the next few days.

They would wake early and split up. One of them, usually Hayden, would go to the clinic to visit Iris while the other two appeared on TV, gave interviews or complied with whatever the Gamemakers wanted them to do. Then, Effie or Haymitch or both of them would relieve Hayden who would use the time to get some fresh air, give an interview or two of his own, and then come back. Haymitch sneaked behind his brother’s back to _special appointments_ that left him more and more ragged every time. Effie wanted to help but he kept his distances from her and she allowed it, knowing in that kind of situations he needed his space. Sometimes he stumbled in her bed in the middle of the night and snuggled to her, holding her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. Sometimes, she found him on the couch, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. He couldn’t get as drunk as he would have liked to be, she knew. She helped him concealing his coming and going from Hayden but after a few days of Haymitch looking haggard and Effie’s temper growing short due to nerves, he started to become suspicious.

There was no time for him to press the point though. The days were full and exhausting and Effie longed for a lie in. Victory Tour, as expected, wasn’t a big hit. Effie glimpsed Annie Cresta on TV once or twice – they were too busy to properly watch – and she felt for the young woman who looked as tired and lost as she felt inside. Each time she was on camera, Finnick never left her side, more often than not answering questions for her and deflecting the attention as much as he could. Everybody was talking about him, nobody was talking about the newest victor. She supposed that had been Four’s plan all along. She was grateful he was far away from the Capitol because she suspected he would have gone through the same frenzy they were putting Haymitch through.

There were a bunch of other popular victors in the Capitol now but Twelve got so much attention that they had to take a backseat. Effie and Hayden’s path crossed Enobaria’s at a party they had been asked to attend one night, the young woman glared at them so hard Effie spent the whole evening dreading a repeat of their last interaction. It took Cashmere’s forceful hand on Two’s victor’s arm to steer her away. Cashmere didn’t look jealous, Effie thought that she might had grown tired of the Capitol’s _special attention_. She saw the victor exchanging a few words with Haymitch when he finally showed up. Haymitch listened, nodded and then walked straight to them.

“Stay away from Enobaria.” he ordered them, not leaving any room for argument.

Effie could tell Hayden was annoyed but he mercifully complied with his brother’s wishes without too much prompting from her.

She was almost relieved when it was finally time for the surgery. There was a lot of work around it, of course, the medias to handle and her victors to take care of, but Effie was at her best when she was busy. Still, when she walked in the waiting room, after two hours of giving official statements on Haymitch and Hayden’s behalf, to find her victors sitting on opposite sides of the waiting room, her relief turned to anguish. Hayden’s hands were clasped between his knees and his head was bowed. Haymitch was slumped in his chair, his head propped against the wall, his eyes on the ceiling, looking every bit like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He flinched when she placed a hand on his shoulder but forced himself to relax. She took her hand away, wishing – not for the first time – that the people who enjoyed hurting him so much were in front of her right now. She had very improper and violent ideas about what she would like to do to them with her high heels.

“Any news?” she asked since the surgery was supposed to have started two hours earlier.

“Not yet.” he offered tiredly.

Hayden looked up but didn’t have anything to contribute so he soon went back to his silent staring. She sat on a chair and settled for a long wait.

It took three more hours before Doctor Torenton appeared with a reassuring smile. Effie breathed a little easier and, after making sure Iris was as alright as could be expected, she stepped out and started the tedious process of informing the press.

Iris remained in intensive care for two days and her sons never left the clinic to the staff’s utter dismay. Effie did her best to placate ruffled feathers but she would have lied if she had said not to be relieved when Iris was moved back to her previous room, awake and coherent, and her victors finally agreed to come back at the penthouse with her.

Doctor Torenton promised them with the surgery and with basic preventive measures, Iris’ heart could last for decades.

They enjoyed a few days of relative calm. Annie Cresta did really well in Six, stealing screen time away from Twelve to their team’s relief.

Five days after Iris was released from intensive care, Haymitch stepped into Effie’s room one night, without being invited, while she was getting ready for a party she didn’t want to attend but where her presence had been requested. She glanced at him in the mirror, adjusting her pink and purple dress. Her eyes spotted the grey envelope in his hand. Her first thought was that, at least they had given him a few days to recover from his mother’s surgery, then she felt guilty about even thinking it.

“She booked me for a few days.” he said casually, as if they were discussing dinner arrangements. “This one’s going to be public. She wants the whole deal of dating a victor. ‘Thought you should know.”

“Are you alright?” she asked, knowing it was a stupid question but at a loss for what else to say.

“You’re the one who’s going to have to watch me play another woman’s lover boy, I’m the one who should be asking, no?” he sneered. “You’re going to be alright with that?”

“Do I have a choice?” she retorted. She buried her anger deep down though, because he wasn’t the one she was angry at. “I am just worried about you.”

“Not your job.” he snorted, waving that away.

He was in full defense mode, his walls were up, his temper frayed… She wondered how much he had to drink already and how much he was planning on drinking later.

“It _is_ my job but more than that it is my prerogative.” she objected, turning away from the mirror to walk closer to him. She brushed her fingers against his cheek and pretended she did not see the instinctive recoil. She dropped her hand at once.

“Sorry.” he mumbled with a deep sigh. “It’s not you, it’s…”

He let the sentence trail off and she nodded, forcing a smile on her lips. “Yes. I know. I understand.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. It was probably one of the most chaste kisses they had ever shared. “If I could, you would be…”

“I know.” she cut him off, even though she _didn’t_ quite know. She suspected but she didn’t know. And she wasn’t expecting love declarations from him. It wasn’t truly his style. His old girlfriend’s ghost was still lurking behind his eyes when he thought she couldn’t see. Sometimes, however, he was looking at her like he was doing right then, with so much affection in his eyes, she thought he wanted to tell her he had feelings for her. He never did and she knew he probably never would for a long time yet but the sentiment was there and, for now, it had to be enough.   

He managed to keep that _liaison_ on the quiet side for two days but it eventually hit the papers and with the publicity Twelve had gotten lately, it made the headlines. Haymitch didn’t come back to the penthouse for two more days and he visited Iris when Hayden and Effie weren’t there. It was the coward’s option, she rather thought, because it left her to deal with Hayden’s clumsy attempts at comforting her despite her repeated statements that she was fine, everything was fine and Haymitch was free to do whatever he wanted. Hayden didn’t believe her. She couldn’t blame him, she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

The woman in question was old, in her late fifties, and it upset Iris which, in turn, upset her doctor and only increased Hayden’s fury. He was mad on Effie’s behalf but nothing she could say would have calmed him down, he was certain she was downplaying her hurt feelings for everyone’s sake and she started to think Haymitch had been right in staying away.

With that in mind, she couldn’t say she was overly surprised when, a few nights later, she was awaken by a loud thumping noise and a yelled _“Don’t touch me_!”.

She ran out of her room without even bothering with a dressing gown, terrified to walk in another brawl between the two brothers.

She wasn’t wrong to dread it.

Hayden had Haymitch’s jacket bundled in his fist, pinning him against the wall, and she barely had time to blink before Haymitch shoved his brother back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draaama ;) Did you like this chapter? How do think this will play out?


	60. Chapter 60

Haymitch knew going back to the penthouse was a poor decision but he was wasted and he literally could  have killed for a shower and a bed that didn’t reek of musky perfume. Remembering that woman’s smell alone was enough to make him want to throw up. He had been careful not to be seen on his visit to the Capitol bar and he had used the back entrance so no camera would capture him drunk, he hoped Effie would be satisfied with the effort because, at the moment, he couldn’t care less about Twelve’s public image.

He stumbled out of the elevator and along the corridor, muttering a string of curses when he bumped into a table. He didn’t see why they needed to put tables with ugly vases or sculptures everywhere. He cursed even louder when the lights suddenly flooded on, knowing full well that with his kind of rotten luck, it wouldn’t be Effie.

“You’re drunk.” his brother accused, right on cue.

“So are you.” he mumbled, shielding his eyes from the blinding lights. His retort was a shot in the dark but Hayden was coming from the living-room and his voice sported that characteristic touch of slurring that always impeded his speech when he had had one too many.

“Following my dear Dad and my dear big brother’s example.” Hayden snorted.

Haymitch didn’t want to fight. All he wanted was a shower, a really scalding one, and perhaps to crash in Effie’s bed and let her soothe his bad memories away.

“Good.” he replied. “I will let you go back to it.”

He turned away from his brother, blinking against the lights that were too harsh for his drunken brain, and tried to make an escape but Hayden wasn’t done with him. _Of course_ , he wasn’t done with him…

“You’re despicable.” his brother spat. “I’m so ashamed of you I don’t even want to look at you.”

It hurt more than he was comfortable admitting but he didn’t even flinch. “Good thing you have no problem talking to me then, right?”

“I told you she was off limits. I told you I didn’t want _her_ getting hurt because of _you_.” Hayden continued. “I thought you had changed. I thought she was special to you. I thought you _loved_ her.”

He swirled around at that, bristling against the accusation and almost losing his balance in the same move.

“ _Don’t_.” he snarled. “Don’t _ever_ say that again.”

He had loved a girl once and she had been killed because of it. He would be damned before he let the same thing happen to Effie.

“Why?” Hayden sneered. “’Cause Haymitch Abernathy finally loving someone would be so terrible? You’re _dry_ inside, Haymitch. You can’t let anyone in, you hurt everyone and you don’t even _care_ , not if there’s a party to go to or booze to drink. Cheating on Effie like that, that’s a new low even for you.”

Haymitch took everything in stride. It wasn’t all about Effie, he figured, it never was with Hayden. Years of resentment would do that, he supposed. It was why he hadn’t wanted his brother to find out about what was going on between him and their escort, he didn’t want to deal with the drama. He didn’t want to hear what his brother – and, he suspected, his mother – thought of him.

“Why do you do this kind of thing?” Hayden went on, walking closer. Haymitch took as many steps back, knowing even through the liquor clouding his judgment that it would be best to keep some distance. “You enjoy seeing people miserable because of you? What’s your deal? You feel bad so everyone needs to feel bad? What did _Effie_ do to deserve this?”

“Stop talking about her like you know _shit_.” he growled back. “Stop acting like you know her better than me.”

“I do.” Hayden retorted. “She’s _my_ friend.”

“And I’ve been fucking her for two years.” he spat. “Trust me, I know her better.”

“Don’t talk about her like she’s just a piece of meat for your amusement.” Hayden shot back.

His brother took another threatening step closer, Haymitch held his ground for a few seconds and then shook his head, knowing if he didn’t walk out of there and fast, punches would be thrown. _Again_.

“Mama’s on her hospital bed and you fuck around with a woman who’s older than her.” Hayden hissed. “What’s your _bloody_ deal, Haymitch?”

He turned his back on his brother and walked away, intending to go back to his room, lock the door and possibly down another bottle – assuming Effie hadn’t found it, there should have been one in his wardrobe for emergencies – but Hayden’s hand fell on his shoulder. It felt like an electroshock.

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ” Haymitch roared, shrugging his hand off and pushing him away, very much feeling like a trapped animal. He didn’t want to be touched. Not yet. Not before he had taken at least two showers and he felt human again.

“You’re not walking away from this conversation.” Hayden replied, grabbing his jacket and using it to pin him to the wall. “We’re talking about this.”

Haymitch struggled uselessly for a few seconds, his reflexes addled by liquor, barely noticing Effie running out of her room in nothing but a frilly pale blue nightgown, before his instinct finally took over and he shoved Hayden away. He was in full fight or flight mode, the adrenaline burned through him, his heart was racing, he could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears… It felt familiar. It felt like escaping from a particularly horrid nightmare. It felt like being back in the arena.

“Stop.” Effie ordered, stepping between the two of them exactly like she had done the last time. “Stop, both of you. What is going on?” She turned her back on him to face Hayden and Haymitch wanted to tell her it was a mistake because _he_ was the _threat_ , he was the one who couldn’t tell friends from foes anymore and could end up snapping her neck if anything triggered a flashback. She didn’t seem to realize though. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at his brother. “What is the meaning of this, Hayden?”

“The bastard _cheated_ on you!” Hayden shouted, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

Effie’s stance relaxed slightly. “I _told_ you already…”

“You don’t care, yeah.” Hayden sneered. “And I don’t believe you.”

There was a small hesitation on their escort’s part and then Effie let out a sigh. “Very well. I cheated on him first.”

Haymitch’s eyebrows shot up and a low growl escaped him. He couldn’t tell if it was pain or jealousy or… She shot him a warning glare over her shoulder and he relaxed when he realized what she was doing. Stupid, he could have told her.

“You’re lying.” his brother scowled. “When are you going to understand I can tell when you’re lying? Why are you _still_ protecting him?” 

“Why aren’t _you_?” she hissed, annoyed. “He is _your_ _brother_.”

“Because he wants you.” Haymitch chuckled without any form of amusement. “That’s it, isn’t it? Mama’s been right _all_ _this_ _time_ …”

“Don’t be stupid.” Hayden scoffed. “I love her like a sister and that’s why I don’t want the likes of you anywhere near her. She deserves a hundred times better than you.”

“Hayden!” Effie snapped, obviously angry.

“She does but she wants _me_ so, _suck_ _it,_ and leave us alone.” Haymitch took a step closer but Effie shot him a new glare over her shoulder and he remained where he was.

“I appreciate your concern, Hayden.” she said sincerely enough. “But I am a grown up woman who can make her own decisions and…”

“And your decision is to let him screw you over every chance he gets?” his brother cut her off. “He will _never_ stop cheating on you. I thought he could change, I thought… He _can’t,_ don’t you get it? He’s wired that way. He’s an asshole.”

“Who says we were even in a relationship?” Effie shot back. “You are assuming a lot. We told you repeatedly that we were not together. Did it occur to you we might just be two willing adults who enjoy having some occasional quality time together?”

Hayden studied her for a while and then shook his head. “ _For fuck’s sake_ , Effie! You keep blinking when you lie. I thought we had an agreement about that? You _keep_ lying to me because of him.”

“That is another problem entirely and one for which your brother is not responsible.” their escort retorted swiftly. “Your quarrel on this matter is with me.”

“What is it with him?” Hayden made a face. “People are always lying to help him or cover for him. What does he have that’s so special? Why can’t you all just tell the truth?”

“You want the truth?” Haymitch said, finally breaking out of his silence. His brain told him to shut up but the liquor was telling him now was as good a time as any to spill everything out. “You think you can handle it?” He let out a round of bitter snickers. “I’m going to tell you the truth, baby brother, the truth is…”

“The truth is we are all tired and under a lot of stress and we should all go to bed.” Effie interrupted him firmly.

“You’re seriously going to let him get away with cheating on you?” Hayden asked. “You’re taking his side?”

“There are no sides, Hayden.” she sighed, obviously exhausted from repeating herself. “Bed, now.”

“But…” Haymitch tried to argue. He wanted to tell his brother, he wanted to…

“No.” she declared almost in a hiss, lowering her voice so much he was certain Hayden couldn’t hear. “You want to tell him only to hurt him and I won’t let you turn this into a weapon. You will hate yourself later and you will regret it all your life. You won’t tell him now and you won’t tell him to cause him pain. I forbid it.”

It was a complicated rant for his sodden brain to decipher but Hayden had clearly interpreted their whispered conversation as a sign of plotting against him and stormed away, vowing loud enough for them to hear that they could both go to hell for all he cared.

Effie was hurt, Haymitch could tell, but she pretended nothing was amiss even after he had finally taken his shower and crawled in her bed. Usually, after an appointment, he was the one doing the snuggling and she was the one doing the comforting but that night, she ended up half sprawled on his chest and he ended up running his fingers through her hair soothingly.

“He will get over it.” he told her and he wished it didn’t sound so clumsy and uncertain. He had known for some time that his and Hayden’s relationship was spiraling toward a breaking point, he just hoped they hadn’t reached it yet and that if they had, he hadn’t taken Effie with him. “He loves you too much. He forgave you the thing with Della, he will get over this too.” She didn’t answer but there was a very suspicious sniffing. He hoped she wasn’t crying. He hated it when she cried. “It’s just a matter of a few days.”

It wasn’t, in fact, a matter of a few days. Or a few weeks.

By the time Four’s team finally reached the Capitol and the final party at the Presidential mansion came around, Hayden was still not speaking to either of them. He consented to saying a few words to Effie when directly related to work but that was the extent of it. It made Effie upset and it made Haymitch mad on her behalf which didn’t help the situation at all.

Iris was released from the clinic on the very morning of the party at the Presidential mansion and Hayden made a fuss about him and Effie going out when their mother had just come home and needed attention. Iris, of course, was all for everyone going out and enjoying themselves, assuring both her sons and their escort that she would be fine on her own. Effie suggested to Haymitch he should take Hayden to the party instead of her in the optic of mending bridges but he was so pissed with his brother, he refused. He didn’t particularly want to attend Snow’s party but it was worth it if only to annoy Hayden.

Effie’s spirits brightened up once they were at the mansion, the glamour of it all acting like a balm on her bruised feelings. They toured the room a few times and he humored her into acting charming for some sponsors – he couldn’t help but notice she was targeting the inoffensive ones, those who wouldn’t even dream of paying him for anything – but before long he left her with a group of her friends and he stepped out on the balcony, longing for some fresh air and quiet time.

There were a few other people on the balcony but they were talking in hushed tones, it was large enough that they didn’t need to interact and the music wasn’t as loud as it was inside so he counted his blessings. He spotted Heavensbee’s assistant in the midst, closed face and always so serious. She contrasted sharply with the cheerful women buzzing all around.

He was still pondering the mystery when he felt the presence at his side and looked down to find Mags leaning heavily on her walking stick. She didn’t look good but for someone who had suffered a stroke a few years earlier, he supposed she was looking peachy.

“Well, you _were_ a stranger.” he snorted. “No phone calls, no letters… I was starting to think you had forgotten about me.”

“I was a bit busy.” Mags answered, so quietly he had to prick up his ears to hear her. Her voice sounded slightly different, rougher, and there was a small slur to her speech. “You looked out for my boy. Thank you.”

“You know me.” he shrugged. “I can’t resist a lost cause. Speaking of, how’s your latest victor?”

He hadn’t managed to see Finnick since Four’s team arrived in the Capitol. The boy was either paraded around on TV or dragged to some party or another.

“Time will tell.” she offered in this small murmur of hers. It pained him how diminished she looked but he didn’t want to ask how she was. He had known Mags for a long time, long enough in any case to know she wouldn’t appreciate it. “Annie’s not all there anymore. Finnick is getting frustrated.”

“He’s the one who pulled her out.” Haymitch pointed out.

“He says he doesn’t know why he did it.” Mags sighed. “Why does anyone do anything? That boy can be so blind sometimes… He says she annoys him but he spends his days with her, trying to help her get better. She’s creeping up on him and he doesn’t even notice.”

“She looks like a good girl.” he commented. From what he had seen of her anyway. She had remained glued to Finnick’s side since the beginning of the party.

“She is.” she nodded slowly. “I am coming back to mentoring next year.”

He was honestly surprised by that. Four had plenty of victors to spare to the task and it had seemed to him Shella had been enjoying playing mentor – or, more probably, rekindling her affair with Brutus.

“You’re sure you’re up to it?” he frowned. “No offense, Mags, but you don’t look so good.”

He ignored the glaring.

“Things are happening and I intend to be there for them.” she said.

“What things?” he asked, unconsciously lowering his voice.

She stared at him for a few seconds and then carefully looked away. “How’s your Mama?”

“Don’t change the subject.” he snapped. “What’s going on?”

She refused to answer but if she thought he hadn’t caught the exchange of glances between her and Heavensbee’s assistant, Mags was very much mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 60, do you believe it? And so much yet to come... Told you it would be my longest fanfiction yet ;) Did you like this chapter? Let me know!


	61. Chapter 61

“There won’t be any question we haven’t already rehearsed for, they submitted the list to me this morning. I have Caesar’s word there won’t be any surprise or anything upsetting so everything should go according to plan. Don’t hesitate to ask for a glass of water or a break if you need one. What you have to remember above all is to smile, to thank the Capitol copiously for its generosity at every opportunity and if you can place a word about Twelve’s next tributes and sponsoring, all the better.”

Effie paused to breathe and smoothed the creases on Iris’ dress. This would be the first of a long series of interviews and, naturally, Caesar would have the honors in his talk show. The pressure was huge because Victory Tour was now officially over and Twelve was still under the spotlights, this would mean potential sponsors and Effie was determined to do everything right.

“I will be right here the whole time, your sons are in the audience, Caesar will call them up at some point. It will look spontaneous but I don’t want you to be caught off-guard. If it becomes too much, let Haymitch handle the questions. One or two embarrassing baby stories about them would be acceptable but nothing that can hurt Twelve’s image. As far as everyone is concerned they are thick as thieves, alright?”

It was a very long speech and she searched the older woman’s eyes for any insecurities, too acutely aware that they were standing backstage, that Caesar would call Iris on stage any minute and that the show was airing live. She would have liked Iris’ first public appearance on cameras to be recorded so they could have edited some parts out if needed but that wasn’t to be.

“My boys said you were bossy.” Iris smiled with obvious amusement.

“I prefer the term _efficient_.” she deadpanned with a grin of her own. “Do you have any question?”

“Actually, yes.” Iris’ smile faltered. “What happened between my sons and why is Hayden giving you the cold shoulder?”

“Everything is fine.” Effie lied. “Do not worry.”

Haymitch and Hayden had gone into a cold war mode. They didn’t talk to each other, they didn’t fight, they didn’t even make side comments like they usually did when they were having a feud. Effie understood that they were trying to keep it from their mother so as not to upset her – something her doctor had warned them against at lengths – but the lack of brotherly bantering was more telling than shouts in her opinion. As for the way Hayden spoke to _her_ , it would be obvious to anyone there was a problem there too. He was cold and distant and only answered when the topic was work-related or when he couldn’t avoid it. Their easy friendship seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Iris clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You are a very bad liar.”

Fortunately for Effie, her victors’ mother was called right at that moment and she walked on stage under a round of applause, waving shyly at the crowd. Iris was intimidated at first but Caesar soon put her at ease and Effie breathed out a sigh of relief when she started answering naturally and even a little cheekily to the host’s questions. The whole interview went better than she had dared to expect and the public’s response was very positive.

“Good job.” She beamed at Iris and her sons afterwards.

“Now I feel like I’m a dog.” Haymitch snorted but then his lips stretched in a slow lazy smirk. “You’re gonna scratch my belly too?”

Hayden scoffed and walked away, leaving Iris to look at her son’s back with a puzzled expression that quickly became accusatory when she stared at Haymitch. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing.” Haymitch sighed. “He’s just throwing one of his tantrums. Don’t worry.”

“Last time he was this upset he moved out, Haymitch.” Iris snapped. “Of course I worry.”

“Well, _don’t_.” he grumbled. “Let’s go back to the penthouse.” He wouldn’t answer to any of his mother’s questions and Effie’s efforts to fill the ensuing awkward silence with mindless chatter fell flat. “Maybe _I_ should move out.” Haymitch muttered to her later, once they were safely behind closed doors. “Maybe I should move to the Capitol. Let’s see how she likes it then. Let’s see if she takes Hayden’s side.”

Effie didn’t offer any kind of comment. She refused to feed the feud between the two brothers and, truly, Haymitch moving to the Capitol on a permanent basis wouldn’t be such a bad thing in her point of view.

The next two weeks were booked with more interviews, public events, parties and as many things Iris could do without putting her health in jeopardy. Effie insisted on giving her a tour of the city – which, given that Iris couldn’t exhaust herself, took almost a whole week in itself.

She was showing her victors’ mother her favorite place in the whole Capitol – Main Street with all its shops – when she suddenly heard her name being called from afar despite all rules about ladies not raising their voices. She almost pretended she didn’t hear but Iris stopped with a benevolent expression, peering at the pale pink hurricane making its way toward them.

“I am so sorry.” was all Effie had time to whisper to Iris before she had to force a bright smile on her lips. “Mother! I didn’t know you intended to go shopping today.”

“You would know if you called more often.” Elindra chided her, leaning in to kiss the air next to her cheek. “What is this dress you are wearing? It is simply _awful_. This shade of blue makes you look green in the face.”

Her mother looked pointedly at her companion and Effie swallowed back her irritated sigh. “May I introduce you to Iris Abernathy? Iris, this is my mother, Elindra Trinket.”

Iris seemed equally alarmed and amused by the enthusiastic way her mother shook her hand.

“How fantastic!” Elindra exclaimed “And what _struck of luck_ to meet you here… You know most ladies of my acquaintance would pay _a fortune_ to meet you? You are very much the talk of town lately, Iris. I simply _need_ to get to know you. Are you thirsty? All that shopping made me absolutely _parched_. How about some tea? There is a lovely tea house not too far.”

“I apologize, Mother, but we have places to be.” Effie said firmly.

Of course, the day she managed to oppose her mother on anything would be the day pigs would fly by her windows.

“Nonsense.” Elindra waved her objections away, passed her arm under Iris’ and off they were with Effie trailing behind them like a discarded puppy. Her mother naturally talked all the way to the tea house without pause or any regard for Iris’ opinion. She chose an outside table for them – a table where everyone could see them both from the inside of the shop and from the street – waving at a certain number of people on her way there and barely stopping long enough to say hello to others. Her aim was clearly to be seen with Iris who was, admittedly, very popular lately and rather elusive to Capitol citizens.

Elindra never shopped alone which left Effie to ponder how she had managed to find out about her whereabouts. This _fortunate_ meeting was planned from beginning to end, she was certain of it.

Her mother never stopped talking, even once they had ordered, to the point Iris was reduced to polite nods. Elindra’s laugh was loud, her smiles were bright and if she thought Effie didn’t see how she posed for the regular flashes of covert cameras, she was very much mistaken. This was her mother’s public persona. This was the former hit girl who had brought the Capitol to its knees in her youth.

Effie held her tongue and sipped her tea, knowing full well what her role was in that kind of situations: she had to act like the perfect doll, be charming, pretty, and, above all, _silent_.

“You have an amazing daughter.” Iris said, when Elindra paused to take a breath. It had nothing to do with the current topic – which had been about frilly dresses – and as kindly meant as it had been, Effie wished she hadn’t brought it up.

“Oh, yes, I am fortunate on that account.” Her mother’s voice lowered slightly, unlike the rest of the conversation, that particular subject clearly wasn’t meant for all ears. “Lyssandra is, of course, maybe more of an accomplished lady but Effie certainly has her qualities.”

“Why, I am happy to hear it.” she grumbled.

Elindra pursed her lips in disapproval. “Muttering is unbecoming to a lady and so is unprovoked sass. Elocution is key, Euphemia.”

“My apologies, Mother.” she said sweetly and insincerely.

“My sons have only compliments for her.” Iris insisted, obviously ill-at-ease now. “They like her very much.”

“They would, wouldn’t they?” Elindra flashed her a small smile that was so genuinely sympathetic it was truly embarrassing to witness. It wasn’t ill-intended but the natural pity Capitol people felt for District people wouldn’t be welcome in that situation. “Who wouldn’t? I do not think you have many beautiful women in your District. They always look so… dirty and plain on TV.”

“Mother!” Effie hissed, very much wishing she could dig a hole and bury herself in it.

“Please, do not take it personally.” Elindra was quick to add. “You obviously have higher standards than the rest of them. Your dress is exquisite, by the way.”

If she had meant to placate the District woman with that, it was a failure. Iris bristled. “Your daughter chose it.” The tone was frosty and Effie now could see Haymitch had inherited his scowl from his mother.

“She always had a gift for dressing people.” Elindra nodded, either oblivious to her blunder or unwilling to recognize it and properly apologize. “She should have become a stylist. I told her enough time modeling wasn’t for her.”

“I understood she was very popular.” Iris retorted, defensive on Effie’s behalf.

“Mother does not think anything is worth it if you are not the best.” she cut in.

“Well, you certainly are the best escort Twelve ever got, that’s for sure.” Iris huffed.

Effie couldn’t help but smile warmly at her even though Elindra let out a small scoff.

“If that were true, she would have been promoted to One by now.” her mother sighed. “I do not mean to offend but you must realize Twelve is not the most prestigious District. It is rather tiring to watch my daughter lose year after year – not to mention it is _humiliating_ to _me_ when my friends laugh at her demise. I am afraid Twelve exhausted its lot of potential victors with your sons. You must be very proud of them though. Two victors in the same family… How _amazing_! You must have been thrilled when your youngest was reaped.”

Iris looked thunderstruck and Effie couldn’t blame her.

“I am afraid we are running really late, Mother. I have to get ready for a party tonight and Iris needs her rest.” she said, refusing to hear any of Elindra’s rebukes or half-hearted suggestions that Effie should bring Iris and her sons to their traditional Sunday brunch. Her mother was happy enough, Effie mused, she had been publicly seen with the Capitol’s latest obsession and she would appear on the front of gossip rags for a few days. It didn’t happen that often anymore.

Once they were safely in the car, Iris patted her hand. The older woman didn’t say anything, didn’t offer any comment on her mother’s behavior but Effie knew she had been shocked and appalled. She felt ashamed for Elindra.

When Haymitch sneaked in her room that night, he was sporting a mocking smirk.

“So, I hear your mother is a cow, sweetheart.” he teased, climbing into her bed and wrapping his arms around her. “Which, in my mother’s mouth really meant she’s a _bitch_. ‘Couldn’t get the whole story out of her, what happened?”

“Do _not_ call my mother a bitch.” she hissed with a displeased frown.

He lifted a hand in a peace gesture but didn’t apologize or take it back. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened?” she replied, annoyed. “My mother is Capitol pure breed. She put up an act and she offended your mother. I am quite certain it wasn’t her aim though so don’t even start or you can leave right now and sleep in your own room.”

“Bitchy runs in your family.” Haymitch grumbled. “What did _I_ do?”

“You are aggravating me.” she retorted, turning her back on him and taking the blankets with her.

“Yeah, you’re sure you’re not _aggravated_ because Hayden is still not talking to you?” he scoffed.

“Clearly, _bitchy_ doesn’t run _only_ in _my_ family.” she snapped. “How long is he going to make me pay for something that is out of my control? He is being immature, childish and idiotic and I _hate_ it because I want my friend back.”

Haymitch heaved out a long breath and rolled on his back. “Thing is, Princess, I’m not sure you can have both of us at the same time. He doesn’t know how to share. He thinks I’m stealing you away from him or some bullshit. Even if you patch things up… This will happen again and again.”

“Yes, I have come to the same conclusion.” she whispered.

It was painfully obvious that Hayden’s insecurities concerning Haymitch were the source of the problem. And it was partly Haymitch’s fault, he had tricked him and ensured through debatable means that Hayden wouldn’t have any serious relationships the Capitol could use against him enough times that Hayden feared he was doing the same with her. As sad as it was to say, in Hayden’s mind, Haymitch was an insensitive monster. Effie wasn’t naive enough to think he was perfect but she liked to think he was a good man and she wished Hayden would see that. How could he when he didn’t know the whole truth, though? Perhaps she should just have let Haymitch tell him everything…

“And?” he prompted.

She detected a touch of insecurity in his voice that made her roll over to face him. He kept staring at the ceiling even when she placed a hand on his bare chest.

“And nothing.” she replied. “I refuse to choose.”

“What if you have to?” he insisted, turning his head to look at her. His face betrayed nothing but his grey eyes were dark with intent.

“Don’t be preposterous. I already answered that, didn’t I?” she huffed.   

She had lied for him, she had stayed for him, she had done crazy things for him… She had made her choice more than a year and a half earlier when she had committed to this relationship and there was no going back from that. She didn’t know where they were going, she doubted it would lead to a happy ending, but her choice, for better or for worse, was made.

Whatever happened, she would stand with Haymitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Let me know please!


	62. Chapter 62

The silence was thick enough that one could have cut it with a knife.

Or, at least, it felt that way to Haymitch. Ever since they had come back to Twelve, he and Hayden tended to stay clear of each other’s path but when his brother attended meals on their mother’s request, the silence always felt more aggressive than any verbal exchange could have been. They hadn’t discussed the fact that fighting in front of Iris was out of the question but they stuck to that unspoken rule by deference to her heart. He wasn’t sure it was helping matters much, their mother kept asking what was wrong and scolding them for their immaturity. Somehow, that always made Hayden laugh bitterly while staring pointedly at him.

Haymitch didn’t know who was the most immature of the two of them.

When Hayden dropped his fork – his plate still half full – their mother looked up with an irritated expression. “You aren’t already leaving, are you?”

“Sorry, Hazelle’s roof is leaking again.” he shrugged. “Told Gale I would help.”

Iris’ pleas and reproaches did nothing to deter him from his mission. He kissed their mother’s cheek, grabbed the last piece of bread to munch on and left through the backdoor.

Haymitch stood up at once, Iris glared.

“ _You_ have no roof to fix, sit back down and finish your plate.” she ordered. “I hate wasting food.”

The food wouldn’t be wasted, it would be put aside for that night’s dinner but Haymitch didn’t point that out.

“I’m coming back, I forgot to tell Hayden something.” he said and escaped before his mother could make a fuss. Hayden wasn’t far down the path, he hadn’t reached the Victors Village’s metal gates yet. He turned around when he heard Haymitch’s footsteps on the gravel.

“What do you want?” Hayden asked, obviously annoyed at being followed.

“You’re spending an _awful_ lot of time at Hazelle’s.” Haymitch commented.

“How would you know?” his brother retorted. “You’re spending an _awful_ lot of time in the pen pretending to take care of your birds when we _all_ know you’re drinking.”

He chose not to point out that the geese were technically Hayden’s and that he hadn’t been drinking as much as _avoiding_ people – there _had_ been some drinking involved but far less than his brother probably thought.

“I know ‘cause those boys of hers can’t shut up for five minutes.” he snorted. Vick and Rory were chatterboxes and they could ramble for hours, Haymitch usually ignored them but he picked up some things here and there. “You’re sure it’s her roof that’s leaking?”

“You think you’re funny but you’re just _crass_.” Hayden sneered, walking away. Haymitch kept up easily enough and didn’t let his brother’s annoyed glances disturb him. They were just past the gates when he stopped and turned to him again. “What do you _want_ , Haymitch?”

_He_ wanted nothing. _He_ would have been happy to let his brother be because at that point he was just as angry with Hayden as Hayden was with him.

“She’s sad.” he spat. “And she’s sad because you’re being an ass and I have a problem with that.”

To his credit, Hayden didn’t pretend not to understand.

He hadn’t taken any of Effie’s calls and when he _did_ pick up it was only to discuss matters related to the Games. Haymitch had heard _all_ about it during their own occasional three a.m. phone calls - calls he didn’t want to waste talking about his brother.

“You’re sure it’s not because you cheated on her publicly?” his brother mocked. “Or maybe she found out whatever lie you told her was _bullshit_. Who knows what’s even going on with you?”

Haymitch’s jaw clenched in irritation but he vowed to remain calm. “What is it to you what’s going on between us? If you’re angry with me that’s one thing but why do you have to take it out on her? She’s been your friend from the start.”

“Has she?” Hayden retorted. “She lies for you all the time. You think I don’t notice? You think I’m _stupid_? I can’t trust her, that’s as simple as it gets. We’ll keep it professional from now on. On that front, she’s honest at least.”

“You’re being a _jerk_.” Haymitch growled. “You’re hurting her and for what? To get at me?”

He wouldn’t stand for that. He wouldn’t let anyone harm his family to hurt him and the same went for Effie. If Hayden needed his ass kicked to learn that lesson, Haymitch would be happy to provide.

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” Hayden chuckled bitterly. “ _This_ is between Effie and me. She’s _lying_ to me _after_ she promised not to. And whatever she’s got going with you, I can’t support that. I don’t know how you convinced her to…”

“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.” he cut him off. “I didn’t _convince_ her to do anything. She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Hayden shrugged. “Then she doesn’t need me, does she?”

This time, Haymitch let him walk away.

“Your son is a spoiled brat.” he told his mother once he was back in the kitchen, in front of his - now cold - plate.

“I know but I love you anyway, dear.” Iris joked.

Haymitch rolled his eyes.

Effie could never say he hadn’t tried.

°O°O°O°

“Not next to the jonquils, what are you even thinking!”

Effie startled guiltily and took the vase of tulips well away from the pot of jonquils. She had agreed to help her mother decorate the house for that Sunday’s brunch and she was deeply regretting it with every passing minute. The Trinkets expected a lot of important guests and Effie simply wasn’t in the mood to entertain _important guests_ – which, in her mother’s language, meant rich single men who would make fine husbands for her.

“My apologies, Mother.” she offered mechanically.

Clearly it wasn’t good enough for Elindra. Instead of walking away to supervise the staff’s work, she placed a hand on a hip and pursed her lips, studying her daughter with a stern expression. “What is the matter with you, Euphemia?” 

“I wasn’t paying attention, Mother.” Effie sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to defend herself. “I will make an effort. I know how important flowers arrangements are for a party to be a success.”

“Never mind the flowers!” Elindra huffed, dismissing that particular topic with a graceful wave of her hand. “You have been acting odd for weeks. Now, tell me what is going on and, _please_ , don’t tell me you are pregnant if you don’t intend to marry the father.” Her mother’s face suddenly turned white. “Is he of good-breeding? You _can’t_ marry someone who doesn’t belong to our circles, Effie, I forbid it. Pray, tell me he’s not a _Peacekeeper_.”

She spat the word as if it was a curse and Effie wondered what she would have said if she had known the only child her daughter could have been expecting would have had a District man for a father.

“Would you calm down? I am not _pregnant.”_ she hissed, glancing at the servants. It wouldn’t take a lot for that kind of rumors to spread around.

“Good.” her mother breathed out in relief. “Then you have no excuse for using that tone when addressing me. I _hate_ insolence, you know that.”

“Yes, Mother.” she answered automatically. She went back to arranging the tulips but Elindra followed her, refusing to be deterred.

“Well.” her mother prompted. “I am waiting.”

She thought of blaming her behavior of late on too much work-related stress but dismissed the idea at once. If she could avoid mentioning her job as Twelve’s escort and the subsequent lecture about how and why she was a failure for not securing a better position, she would.

“One of my closest friend is refusing to talk to me.” she explained at last. “I understand why he is angry but I feel he is refusing to see my side of the argument and it is upsetting to me because I am not used to being at odds with him.”

Elindra lifted a perfectly shape eyebrow. “Did you break his trust?”

Effie hesitated. “Not as such but I have kept things from him. Secrets that aren’t mine to tell.”

“Did you use his friendship in any way to gain power or influence?” her mother continued.

“No.” she refuted.

Bored with the line of enquiries, her mother walked to a golden framed mirror and patted her orange wig. “Did you steal his boyfriend?”

“No!” she protested.

“Then what is he complaining about?” Elindra shrugged. “This is the Capitol, my dear, best friends stab each other in the back _all_ _the_ _time_. Why, if you knew the _horrors_ Lenna told Haria about me…” She rolled her eyes. “What is the first rule of polite society?”

“Never trust anyone.” Effie recited. That was her mother’s favorite words of wisdom and she had never been shy about imparting them to her daughters – she had never been shy about encouraging them to double cross their friends to reach their goals either.

“Exactly.” Elindra declared. “If your friend doesn’t know that by now, well, it is a lesson he needs to learn the hard way. There are entirely too few people on this Earth you can trust to be angry at them.”

“I am not sure he would see it this way.” she chuckled bitterly. She finished arranging the tulips while her mother checked her reflection for the slightest imperfection. She didn’t know what possessed her to speak again, perhaps it was the fact that the last member of staff had retreated to the kitchen, leaving them alone. Perhaps, she needed some sort of reassurance that life wasn’t as dreadful as she had started to think ever since she had begun working in the Games industry. “Don’t you ever get tired of how shallow it all is? All those parties, the flowers, the dresses…”

“You love the parties, the flowers and the dresses, Euphemia.” her mother declared firmly. It almost sounded like a warning.

“I used to, yes.” she admitted. And she still did on some level, when she managed to forget about everything else. “But when I think about the price the Districts pay for us to live like we do, I…”

“ _Euphemia_.” Elindra cut her off. The note of warning was gone, she sounded afraid now. “You cannot talk in this fashion. You _cannot_ , do you understand me?” In a flash, her mother was in front of her, fussing over her dress. She kept running her hands over the fabric as if to smooth non-existent creases. “The life we live is one of privileges and for that we have to be grateful to President Snow. As for the Districts they are paying the price of their own stupidity. They should never have attempted to riot. They are in their rightful place and we are in ours.”

“Do you really believe that?” Effie whispered. She was shocked but she didn’t quite know why. She had delivered the same kind of speech to Haymitch when he had first told her about what was really going on in Panem.

Her mother’s blue eyes were hard but it was different than her usual distant attitude. She brushed a strand of Effie’s wig back into place, her lips pursed in a straight thin line.

“I never thought I would need to tell this to one of my daughters but you always were less naïve than Lyssandra.” Elindra sighed. “You either play the Capitol’s game or you lose. You do _not_ want to know what losing entails and _I_ do _not_ want to lose you. This is the very first and the very last time I am saying this: _be what I raised you to be_. Play the game.” A beaming smile appeared on her mother’s lips, so sudden it couldn’t be natural but, at the same time, it didn’t seem forced. “If you play it right, darling, you will forget you are even acting. Now, run along and tell your father I expect him to step out of his study and welcome our guests with me.”

Elindra started shouting after the servants, leaving Effie completely dumbfounded. The exchange was so astonishing, she wondered if she had imagined it all. She wondered how well she _truly_ knew her mother.

And because, clearly, that day was meant to be a day of stunning discoveries, she found her father in his study, rearranging a small bookshelf in a hidden niche in the wall behind his desk she had no idea even existed. There was a movable panel, she saw, so that, once closed, the wall looked whole. The picture usually hanging there was propped against the desk.

“Effie.” Her father was surprised to see her and looked embarrassed to be caught in whatever little stunt he was pulling.

“I knocked.” she said defensively and walked closer, too curious to do the polite thing and turn away. There were a few books left on the desk and she snatched one before her father could put them away.

“I thought it was your mother.” Tadius replied. “Please, be careful, this is very fragile and…”

“Forbidden.” she finished for him. She recognized the title as one of the books Haymitch was always so desperate to acquire. That was one of the rare guilty pleasures he indulged in: chasing after forbidden books. She didn’t know how she felt about it: on one hand, it wasn’t liquor, on another it was _forbidden_ and, as such, dangerous. Although, as he had argued with her a few times, they were hardly going to arrest a victor over his dubious tastes in literature, illegal as they were. Her father, however, wasn’t a victor and she had never had any inkling his passion for books extended to outlawed texts.

“How would you know that?” he frowned. “I wasn’t aware you had an interest in literature.”

“I don’t.” She handed him the book back, more carefully. “My… friend collects them.”

She blushed and she hoped the make-up would cover it up. Her tongue had almost slipped and she was certain calling Haymitch her _boyfriend_ in front of her father would _not_ have gone well.

“Abernathy, you mean?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows as he placed the book back on the shelf. She must have looked astounded because he chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked, this isn’t such a large market.” He lifted one of the book to make his point. “I never met him but he snatched a few books I had my eyes on over the years. His collection must be extensive?”

She realized it was a question a second too late. “Oh, he has a whole bookshelf in his living-room but I don’t know how many of them are actually on the prohibited list. He has a lot of books. He loves to read. He’s very cultivated which is all the more irritating since he persists in behaving like a ruffian most of the time, but that’s Haymitch in a nutshell. He loves that book, from Pluto or Pato…”

“Plato?” her father suggested.

“Yes, perhaps.” she hummed, sitting in front of the desk without being invited to – she never stood as much on ceremony with her father as she did with her mother. Lyssa was their father’s favorite – Lyssa was _everyone’s_ favorite – but Tadius had always been fair to his daughters and treated them the same way. “He can talk about politics at length, you know. He knows about all those archaic political systems that we don’t even study in school and I am always lost at some point but he doesn’t seem to mind.” A part of her knew she was rambling and should just stop right then before she gave herself away even more because her father was clearly suppressing a telling smirk but she found she couldn’t stop talking. She had very few occasions to talk about Haymitch. “He reads all night most days, it distracts him. He tried to get me into it but I find those old texts boring.”

“Not very consistent with his playboy image.” Tadius pointed out diplomatically.

“Everything isn’t always as it seems, don’t you think?” she mused. She had always thought her mother to be a particularly cunning but shallow creature, oblivious to most things that weren’t _her_ … How wrong had she been? And how much of their education was meant to protect Lyssa and her?

Tadius hummed but didn’t commit to anything. It occurred to Effie it had been a long time since she had last been alone with her father, it had been years since the last serious conversation they had – he hadn’t been ecstatic about her becoming an escort and she could remember standing in that study and arguing her case before simply stating that she was of age and would do as she pleased.

“Abernathy has a reputation for liking pretty girls.” her father said.

“He does.” she replied in a whisper. “But appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?”

Did her parents know about the prostitution business the Capitol had running with victors? She would have said no before that day but now her mother seemed perfectly aware of the true nature of the government and she couldn’t help but suspect…

“Does he like you?” he asked more directly.

“I suppose he must, I am very pretty.” she retorted. 

They stared at each other for a while, Effie averted her eyes first, suddenly embarrassed. She had never discussed her love life with her father and she didn’t intend to begin on that day. In another universe, she mused, it would have been different. She would have introduced Haymitch to him and she would have instructed her victor to do his best to charm her father because, as strained as their bond sometimes was, her family was important to her.

“Is he a good _friend_ to you?” Tadius enquired.

He put far too much stress on the word friend for it to be anything else than a tactful euphemism. She should have just denied the whole thing because if her mother ever got wind of her affair, there would be hell to pay.

“The best.” she answered instead, with a slow smile. “The very _, very_ best.”

Her father watched her for a few seconds and then handed her one of the books that were on the shelf. “I beat him to this one last time. Give it to him, I think he will enjoy it.”

“I can’t.” she frowned. “Or at least, let me pay you back.”

He wouldn’t hear of it. “It’s a gift. Can’t I give presents to my own daughter anymore?”

At long last, she accepted and thanked him profusely, knowing Haymitch would enjoy the gift a lot more than she would. She appreciated the gesture all the same, it was her father’s way of telling her he was accepting her choice and that meant a lot to her.

“We should go help Mother before she sends Peacekeepers after us.” she joked.

Tadius locked his secret stash of books away and guided her out of his study with a hand at the small of her back. She got the feeling he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.

“Be careful, Effie.” he requested of her in a low voice, as they were about to enter the living-room where her mother was berating a maid. “What you are doing might be dangerous.”

Collecting forbidden books wasn’t particularly safe either, she wanted to argue.

“Do not worry, Father.” she laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He didn’t brighten up, if anything he looked sadder. “I am your father, I’m afraid worrying about you is part of the job’s requirements.”

Those words left a lump in her throat.


	63. Chapter 63

“I don’t get it.” Haymitch frowned, the book forgotten in his hand. “You told _your_ _father_ about us?”

Effie bit her bottom lip, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t _tell_ him, we were talking and you came up in the conversation and… I told him you were a very good friend and he thought you would like the book.” She sighed in irritation and folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “Does it even matter? Whatever he thought he understood he is hardly going to shout it from the rooftop. We have two minutes before your mother comes back, do you really want to spend them arguing?”

Iris was in the kitchen, busy preparing a tray with tea and homemade cookies. It had been difficult enough to convince his mother to leave Effie alone for five seconds – he doubted his escort had showed up two hours early to the Reaping simply to chat with his mother, her aim had more probably been to see him but he hadn’t even been able to greet her properly or, at least, not like he _really_ wanted to greet her.

“I know what I want to do to you but two minutes won’t be enough, sweetheart.” he smirked.

Her answering grin was teasing and just as lustful as he, no doubt, looked.

“That’s more like it.” she purred.

Of course, it was the moment Iris chose to wander back with a full tray that Haymitch hurried to relieve her of because it looked heavy and she wasn’t supposed to overdo it.

“I am so sorry, dear, Hayden says he will join you two at the Square.” Iris told Effie, after flashing a grateful look at her son for his help. “He has some last minute business to attend to in the Seam.”

There was no last minute business to attend to in the Seam, Haymitch knew, it was just a ploy to avoid Effie a little longer. The escort’s smile was perfectly polite but also a little strained, clearly she wasn’t falling for it either.

“No matter.” She dismissed the problem entirely. “I hope he had the good sense to choose a proper outfit.” She glanced at Haymitch. “ _You_ are changing.”

Haymitch glanced down at his blue shirt and grey pants and rolled his eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong with my clothes.” he grumbled.

“This shirt doesn’t fit your complexion _at all_.” she argued, taking a sip of her tea. She heaved out a theatrical sigh. “No, it definitely _won’t_ do. What else do you have in your wardrobe?”

His lips stretched in a low smirk when he understood what she was about. _The little minx_ , he thought not without fondness.

“Why don’t you come up and check?” he suggested, standing up.

His mother was clearly puzzled at his sudden willingness but he was too impatient to bother with putting up a proper act.

“There is the green one in the…” Iris offered but Effie was already on her feet.

“Oh, please, do _not_ trouble yourself, Iris.” she said warmly. “I am certain we can manage. Thank you for the tea it was delicious.”

Given that she had barely touched it, Haymitch didn’t see how she could judge – and his mother was obviously thinking along the same lines but was too polite to call Effie out on it. He guided his escort upstairs with a hand at the small of her back that traveled down as soon as they were safely away from prying eyes.

“Haymitch.” she chided him without any conviction, faced with his groping. Whatever else she was about to say ended up in a sigh when he crushed her mouth under his. They stumbled to his room and he slammed the door shut behind them, pinning her against it just to avoid any surprise visitors.

“I missed you.” she whispered against his lips. “I _missed_ you.”

He kissed her harder, sharing the sentiment wholeheartedly. The months spent apart were becoming a real problem in his opinion. Phone calls when they could say only so much not to alert anyone that this was more than just a fling weren’t enough; daydreaming about her skin to chase the ghosts lurking in his room wasn’t enough; drinking her absence away wasn’t enough either. He had grown dependent on her and it should have scared him – it _scared_ him sometimes – but it also seemed so natural he couldn’t be bothered to dwell on it.

The kissing slowed down at some point, it became lazier, sweeter. There was no time to do anything – there wouldn’t be until later that night on the train – and they both knew they should just cool things down. That was why he was surprised when she started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Effie.” he growled as a warning between two pecks, his own hands tugging at her bright yellow dress. She batted them away at once.

“We told your mother we were looking for a shirt, you can’t go down wearing the same one, Haymitch.” she huffed in her ‘ _don’t be an idiot’_ tone. “Strip up.” The order was added with a devilish grin. He rolled his eyes but humored her, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it on the floor. She licked her lips, brushed a possessive hand along his chest and then clicked her tongue and picked up the shirt before _finally_ looking around with blatant interest.

He had imagined her in his room a lot of times – particularly on lonely nights when he was missing her way too much – but he didn’t think she had ever been in there before.

“It’s cleaner than I expected.” she commented.

“We have a housekeeper now, remember?” he snorted.

Given the way she pursed her lips, she _did_ remember. Obviously, her little one-sided feud with Hazelle wasn’t over yet.

“Vividly.” she muttered, walking straight to the wardrobe. She rummaged inside for a few minutes, he sat on the bed and watched – looking at her from behind was never a bad view.

“I think Hayden is sleeping with her.”

It was the first time he voiced that suspicion out loud. There was no talking to his brother about it – there was no talking to his brother _at all_ – and he wouldn’t have risked sharing the possibility with his mother. He knew what Iris would have had to say about it: Hayden was head over heels in love with Effie. There was no convincing her it wasn’t the case.

“With Hazelle?” Effie gasped. She turned around to look at him, eyes wide. Her surprise quickly morphed into a frown. “Are you planning on having sex with her to keep him away?”

“No.” He didn’t even have to think about it, he was tired of mopping after his brother’s messes and both Chaff and Effie had a point: by trying to protect him at all costs, he was depriving him of his chances at being happy. He didn’t know if Hayden was truly fooling around with Hazelle, he didn’t know if it was serious, he didn’t know anything. And he didn’t want to sleep with anyone he didn’t have to, except Effie. Hayden was a grown man now and Haymitch was tired of being kicked for trying to help.

“Wonderful.” she declared in a bored flat tone. “Because I would have killed both of you and let Hayden deal with the corpses.”

He didn’t even try to suppress his smirk. “I ever told you you’re hot when you’re all possessive, sweetheart?”

She huffed and shook her head. “I am hot _all the time_ , Haymitch.”

Her answer to his laughter was to toss a clean white shirt at his face.

His time alone with Effie always felt like parenthesis in his otherwise _shitty_ life.

The Reaping put an end to his amusement.

Hayden arrived almost late and greeted Effie politely but coldly which annoyed Haymitch. His pointed comment that Hayden didn’t have to behave like a jerk went ignored. To make matters worse, drizzle started falling right when Effie took place behind her mic. She was drenched by the time that year’s two tributes were standing next to her – and so was Haymitch, the white shirt wasn’t a good idea after all. The girl was sixteen, two dark braids framed a freckled face, she looked too delicate and too doll like, Haymitch dismissed her at once. The boy was fourteen with broad shoulders but a bad case of teenage acne, he would appeal to exactly no one.

He and Hayden exchanged a glance, like they always did at the end of every Reaping, angry at each other or not, and Haymitch knew they were in agreement on their chances to win. 

Haymitch didn’t get a real opportunity to talk to the tributes until dinner on the train and he knew at once any illusion of appearances being deceiving was far-fetched. Selina was from the Seam and acted like a peeved bird. Every time someone spoke, she flinched. Effie’s attempts at distracting her with conversation utterly failed and she looked ready to flee at every sudden move from Haymitch and Hayden. It wasn’t a stretch to understand her father wouldn’t have won the _Dad of the year_ award. As for the boy, Kevan, he was obviously terrified but put up a good front – and Haymitch might have thought he had a chance if his voice hadn’t broken with each word. They could do something for the pimples in the Remake Center before the Opening Ceremony but the voice…

Effie shared his opinions and that was all she could rant about once he had sneaked into her room later on, even though he was trying to distract her with kisses. 

“Can you stop about the tributes already?” he snapped, after ten minutes of soliloquy on her part.

“We are _tasked_ with helping those children.” she retorted. “Can’t you take it seriously for once?”

“They’re dead.” he stated. “That’s what you want to hear? _They’re already dead_ , Effie.”

He knew Hayden had told her just as much right after the kids had gone to bed – although perhaps a bit more tactfully – but she still had a fit. She kicked him out of the room for the first time since they had started this thing between them, she usually let him sleep in her bed even when she was angry.

He ended up in the bar car with the familiar Avox bartender to whom he gave a heartfelt and slightly drunk monologue about why women were _poison_. At three a.m. he couldn’t bear it any longer and he crawled back to her room, not quite apologizing but peppering her with enough soft kisses that her initial protests turned into giggles. Her nightgown was quickly discarded and he covered her body with his own with a contented sigh. It wasn’t the act in itself that he craved, it was _her_.

“I know our chances are low.” she whispered afterwards. “But I have to hope, I have to _believe_ it is possible, or I fear I will… I will go _mad,_ Haymitch.”

“Just don’t put your heart on the line, Princess.” he advised.

She didn’t heed that advice, she never did.

She got too invested, swirling their tributes and Hayden in her wake like a hurricane he barely escaped. Three or four teenagers were already standing out by the time the Opening Ceremony was over, Twelve’s weren’t amongst them. Still, Effie was dedicated, she played on their District’s recent popularity with Iris and managed to snatch up a few sponsoring offers. It wasn’t much and he didn’t think it would buy more than a bottle of water but she looked so proud of herself, she was almost beaming when she came back to the penthouse with the papers for Hayden to sign.

He never thought it would be enough for them to win but, for a while, he thought it might have been enough for his brother to forget about being angry with them. He and Effie were more careful to keep their affair from Hayden, his brother didn’t even blink when his first _special appointment_ made the headline that year, he didn’t even get a lecture when he staggered drunk in the penthouse at dawn – well, he _did_ get a lecture but, as he pointed out to Effie, the deal was no drinking in public and Eleven’s floor wasn’t a public place.

Effie was relentless in her sponsors hunt and she had no qualms about putting Haymitch and Hayden in front of cameras to talk about their mother in hope of mellowing the hearts of some Capitols – assuming they even had a heart. It might have worked if their tributes had been more appealing. Their low scores at the end of training and the disastrous interviews that followed were enough of a deterrent that no sponsors would take the risk.

“Stay away from the Cornucopia.” Hayden told them as a goodbye. An advice Haymitch repeated right after his brother – an advice they had all been drilling into their heads all week. Effie hugged them both, all smiles and bubbly confidence, and promised she would see one of them again when they would be crowned victor.

When he wrapped his arms around her that night, he almost expected her to break down in tears. She didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. She was strong, stronger than he was on some points, and she was so good at acting she could fool even herself if she so pleased. She convinced herself the kids could win, it was a mistake.

They both died at the Cornucopia the next morning within two minutes of the beginning of the Games.

Hayden went back to Twelve before the day was through.

The Games dragged on, unleashing passion. Nobody seemed to agree on who would win. The girl from Six, very cunning and deadly with her makeshift slingshot, was the definite favorite but there were the three Careers left to consider plus a few loners like the girl from Seven who must have been very good at hide and seek in her youth, the boy from Nine and the two tributes from Ten who had teamed up and were doing a good job at staying out of everyone’s way.

“My money’s on Six.” Chaff declared, late one night, as they were all sharing a drink in the penthouse. Effie hadn’t been thrilled by the invasion but she would rather the victors remain in the Training Center than cause mayhem in the city.

“Cashmere is on a war’s path.” Seeder argued. “That boy of hers could win yet.”

“He isn’t very popular, is he?” Effie hummed, taking a sip of her pink cocktail. “Too conceited and not in a good way. I am not sure the Gamemakers would appreciate such a winner. I am very certain One’s escort wouldn’t.”

Chaff nodded in agreement even though it seemed to pain him to have to agree with her on anything. He didn’t like Effie much, Haymitch didn’t quite know why. It was him who had encouraged Haymitch to go after her in the first place but now… Eleven’s victor seemed to regret that decision. He kept dropping hints that Haymitch should be more careful, that casual flings were all very well and good but that he should be attentive not to grow too attached – a little past too late for that – that a victor and a Capitol together was doomed from the start… And yet, Haymitch had caught him twice talking to that Fulvia Cardew.

Chaff wasn’t the only one though.

Mags, Finnick, Blight, and, on one occasion, one of the junkies from Six whose name he had never bothered to learn… He had all seen them talking to that woman. When he asked them more or less covertly, the answers were always the same: either a direct command for him to drop it or an innocent denial.

Further investigation on the woman in question had led absolutely nowhere. None of his contacts in the Capitol knew who she was, she didn’t belong to the elite, she seemed to exist only in Heavensbee’s wake.

He had almost asked Effie to see what sort of dirt she could dig on either of them but had thought better of it. He didn’t know what his friends were plotting but, whatever it was, it reeked of danger.

“What do you think, boy?” Chaff called out to Finnick whose eyes had remained glued to the screen even though the TV was on mute.

“I think Mason will surprise all of you yet.” Four’s victor declared with a wolfish grin.

“Mason?” Effie wrinkled her nose. “That poor girl…”

Seven’s tribute had spent the whole interview stuttering and crying. She had been skillful in running away from the Cornucopia and hiding away from her enemies until their number died down but that tactic wouldn’t last much longer. Haymitch had dismissed her as lucky to have lasted that long – lucky kids sometimes won, not often but it happened.

“Oh, just you wait.” Finnick laughed, almost mocking. “The rose has thorns.”

Haymitch glanced at the girl on the screen. Mason was huddled against a tree to keep the nightly chill at bay and was eating the nuts she had collected earlier. If she had thorns, they were well hidden.

Yet, time proved Finnick right.

Mason stumbled upon the Career’s camp two days later – two uneventful days that had left the audience unsatisfied and had prompted the Gamemakers to release the mutt that had drove the girl toward the Careers. At first, it appeared it would be a standard execution. Mason sniveled and begged as the three teenagers spread out to surround her. In her haste to step back, she fell hard on her rear next to a pile of gear.

The three Careers laughed when she picked up the axe and scrambled to her feet.

“ _Fuck_.” Haymitch spat. He was lying on the couch, his head on Effie’s lap. She was running her fingers through his hair and holding a magazine with her free hand. Haymitch had been watching without watching, exhausted to the point of considering a nap but too scared of his own mind to manage falling asleep.

“What is it?” she frowned as he scrambled up, feeling around for the remote. She made a face when he turned the TV’s sound on. “Must you?”

“That girl is a _fucking_ genius.” he said completely enthralled.

Finnick had been right. The change was too abrupt to be natural. The second Mason’s hand closed around the axe’s handle, the fake tears stopped trickling down her cheeks, the frightened expression left place to a deadly calm and the best part was that the Careers never noticed the change. The first one came at her with his sword. He was still laughing when the axe cut him in the stomach.

Haymitch winced and touched his old scar, the sight triggering an odd phantom pain.

The boy dropped to the floor but Mason didn’t finish him, she moved on to the boy from One, Cashmere’s protégé, before the element of surprise was completely off. He left his spear but it was too late to completely block the blow, the axe hit him in the throat. Mason stood, covered in blood, and stared at the last of the pack. She and the girl from Two stared at each other for the longest time and then Two’s tribute turned around and run. She was a good sprinter. It turned out Mason was good at tossing axes as well.

The whole thing didn’t last more than five minutes.

“Was she acting all this time?” Effie asked, flabbergasted. “That’s…”

“ _Fucking_ glorious.” Haymitch chuckled. “I bet the Capitol didn’t see that one coming.”

“Haymitch.” she chided him and he looked up instinctively, knowing it wasn’t because he couldn’t see them that the bugs weren’t there.

“What? It makes for a good show, that’s all I’m saying.” he lied. It wouldn’t convince anyone and it certainly didn’t convince Effie but she didn’t comment.

Johanna Mason won four days later.

Her last act in the arena before the hovercraft picked her up was to flick the finger to the camera.

“I _love_ her.” Haymitch told Effie.

“Yes, well, you would. She lacks manners.” she grumbled. “How _rude_. There are _children_ watching, you know.”

“Yeah, and the finger is so much worse than someone losing their guts.” Haymitch scoffed.

She muttered something but didn’t argue the point further.

“Was she acting all along do you think?” she asked instead.

Was she truly a vicious remorseless born killer or was she just a frightened kid? Which one was the act: the rebellious victor with her bad girl image or a lost girl who knew she needed to put up a front? He didn’t know. One didn’t always excluded the other in his experience.

He didn’t get to find out until that year’s Victory Tour.


	64. Chapter 64

Victory Tour had become Haymitch’s favorite time of the year.

If he was lucky – and that year, he was particularly lucky – he only had to appear to a couple of official events, being seen around the Capitol once or twice, and occasionally showing up to an _appointment_ – although fortunately not this time around – and they were only too happy to leave him alone to his own devices. His own devices involved Effie, a flat surface and a quiet room more often than not.

They had deserted the penthouse for her apartment without really discussing it. Her flat wasn’t bugged and it was _homier_ than the Training Center. Haymitch only went back there now and then, making sure to be caught on camera or to stop by the crowd long enough his fan would make a fuss, for appearance sakes. He didn’t think he had slept there more than six times ever since he had arrived five weeks earlier.

“I was thinking…” Effie hummed, letting her sentence trail off.

“Did it hurt?” he mocked, instinctively pulling his stomach in to avoid the whack she, sure enough, tried to inflict on him.

He didn’t open his eyes though, simply burying his hand deeper in her hair. That was his favorite kind of evening, he mused, Effie sprawled on him on the couch wearing silky blue shorts and a matching top, the windows set to depict a forest somewhere in another District… They were being lazy, they had been talking about going to bed for an hour but had not find the will to get up yet. It was easy to pretend they weren’t in the Capitol but somewhere else, somewhere where everything was easier, somewhere where they were free. Haymitch sometimes reflected that their whole relationship was one of pretend but he never quite lingered on the thought. It seemed too dangerous somehow to poke at the real questions: _where were they going? What future did they have? How long could it last?_

“I am serious, you horrid man.” she chided him.

“Spill it, then.” he snorted. “What are you thinking about?”

“Moving.” she answered. “I could afford something bigger like a house or a better apartment.”

“It’s not because you can afford it that you should do it.” he countered, studying her with a frown. “What’s wrong with this one?”

He liked her place. It was cozy, very _her_.

“It’s too small for two.” she offered in her ‘ _be reasonable, Haymitch’_ voice. “We’re walking on each other.”

What she really meant was that he made a mess of every room and she screamed at him to pick up after himself, which usually led to them fighting, which led to angry sex. He didn’t quite see where her problem was with that.

“It’s not like I’m living here.” he grumbled.

Although he now owned a key.

He had refused at first but she had insisted and it seemed more practical in the long run so there he was now: with a key.

“I’m sorry to break it to you but you are. Part time, at least.” she chuckled. “Your clothes are in my dressing room – when they are not all over the place, that is – there is a second toothbrush next to mine on the sink, your razor is in the drawer, some of your books are on my shelves and…”

“Yeah, okay, I got it.” he mumbled. Maybe it wasn’t _just_ the key. It was true he tended to leave things behind at her apartment because it simply made more sense than going back to the penthouse every time he needed something. “It’s just a month or two a year.”

“And there is no reason for us to be crowded in a small apartment when I can afford a bigger one.” she retorted. “I looked at a few houses but I’m not sure. I think it would feel too empty for me on my own. I would rather buy a bigger apartment. I thought we could visit some while you are still in the city. I want to buy something we both like.” He tensed, very much ill at ease and feeling like a trapped bird in a cage. She must have felt it because she sat up, straddling his hips to look at him properly. “Am I presuming too much?”

_Was she presuming too much_ …

“We’re going to have a hard time keeping this between us if we’re seen strolling around looking for  a place to buy, sweetheart.” It was a feeble argument but it was easier than to expose the real problem.

He wasn’t sure he was the settling kind. His family was in Twelve. His _home_ was in Twelve. One couldn’t have _two_ homes, could they? Besides… Did he want more? They were playing with fire as it was…

Too many people knew about them, they had become something of an open secret. He was terrified something would happen to her because of him. He was terrified she would end up like Mabel with a bullet in her head.

“There are discreet people.” She waved that away carelessly. “And we can say you are just being friendly and helping me pick if anyone takes an interest. There are a thousand ways to cover this.” She placed her hands flat on his chest, her little finger brushed against the scar on his side. “I really want something that is _ours_. I know we can’t have everything but we can have _something_.”

“Effie…” he started very seriously. He didn’t know what was supposed to follow but he knew it would probably have ended in an argument – not the shouting matches kind but the darker ones, the ones that hit too close to home because there were truths they never shared, veils they never lifted, too happy to remain in denial a little while longer.

All in all, it was lucky the frantic hammering on the door happened at that moment.

Effie’s eyes snapped in the direction of the hall while Haymitch frowned. “Expecting someone?” It had happened once or twice, her friends stopped by at random hours but they always ignored it if Haymitch was there. _That_ didn’t sound like simple knocking though, whoever was at the door seemed ready to knock it down. She shook her head and he pushed her off him gently, nudging her towards the bedroom. “Stay there. Out of sight. Don’t come out.”

Hammering on one’s door never bode well in Panem. _Peacekeepers_ , he thought, and given the dread he could glimpse on her face, she was thinking the same. He hoped they were there for him and not her. It wouldn’t have been difficult for them to track him down. He didn’t know what he could have done wrong, he had played Snow’s game as well as he could, but if there were Peacekeepers at the door, he hoped they were there for him. He wouldn’t be able to let them take her without a fight and a fight would only end with his own family in danger.

Facing possible Peacekeepers weaponless wearing nothing but sweatpants wouldn’t have been his first choice of attire.

He opened the door without even checking who it was – there would be no stopping Peacekeepers anyway – ready for a fight. When he saw who was waiting on the other side, he let out a long breath, adrenaline still pumping through his veins following the beat of his racing heart. His initial relief at seeing Finnick was short-lived when he spotted the girl in his arms. He had never met Johanna Mason, she had arrived in the Capitol a few days earlier only, but her face had been plastered on enough screens lately for him to be certain of her identity. She was covered in blood.

“For the love of…” he cursed.

He didn’t have much time to say anything else, the boy pushed past him, his precious load firmly in his arms.

“Close the door.” Finnick ordered, going straight for the couch.

“What the _fuck_?” Haymitch spat, slamming the door shut. “What happened?”

“Oh my god.” Effie breathed out, peeking out of the bedroom. She had slipped a  dressing gown on at least.

“Get back in there.” Haymitch ordered with no hope of being obeyed. “Stay out of this.”

She barely spared a glare for him before rushing straight to the couch. “What happened to her? We need to call for medical help.”

“No.” Finnick barked when she reached for the phone. “She’s fine.”

“She’s covered in blood!” Effie argued, before lowering her voice to a low mutter. “And leaving stains on my couch.”

“It’s not hers.” the boy replied.

The girl looked confused. She was huddled against an armrest, her dress, parts of her arms and legs a deep red that made Haymitch’s stomach churn. The smell was the worse. She reeked of blood and death. She looked so _lost_ and frail shivering there, tracking their every move with her brown eyes, that he found himself reaching for her – to make sure Finnick was right and the blood _wasn’t_ hers. She recoiled back so fast she almost toppled off the couch altogether.

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me!” she shouted, her teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

He lifted both hands up and stepped back.

“She’s in shock.” Finnick said quickly. “She’s…” He rubbed a hand against his face, leaving a red smudge along his cheek. His hands and the front of his shirt weren’t in a better state than her dress.

“Finnick, what happened?” Effie asked softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Blight made a mess, that’s what happened!” the boy exclaimed. “She had an appointment at the Capitol’s Grand Hotel, I was next door… I don’t know what Blight told her, I don’t know how he explained… I don’t think she got what it was about. She…”

“I gutted the bastard.” Mason spat.

Haymitch’s blood ran very, _very_ cold. Seven’s victor straightened, defiant, and he briefly wondered who she was trying to fool because nobody in that room would have fallen for the rough act she was putting. The girl was clearly distraught, terrified and out of her depth.

“Oh my…” Effie whined.

“Gutted _gutted_?” Haymitch asked slowly. Stupid question though. The gutting would explain the amount of blood. He remained calm, he _had_ to. He could see Finnick was dying to have a meltdown, Effie was so white he was expecting her to faint any second and Mason was no use at all.

“Like the pig he was.” Seven’s victor snapped.

“He’s dead.” Finnick confirmed. “She was standing there with the knife, shaking like a leaf, I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you brought the girl who just murdered a Capitol citizen influent enough to buy her to _my escort’s apartment?”_ he growled. “Why not the Training Center? Why not anywhere _fucking_ else?”

“I knew you would be here.” the boy argued. “I didn’t know what to do! My client won’t say anything, she’s married, she has kids, she won’t want to get mixed up in this. She said I should take Johanna out. _What_ _else_ was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave her there!”

Haymitch wanted to argue that Finnick was twenty and that it was old enough for him to deal with his own mess. Haymitch wasn’t Mason’s friend, he wasn’t _responsible_ for her. The girl wasn’t _his_ problem.

“He’s fucking the bitch?” Seven’s victor asked, her calculating eyes darting from Haymitch to Effie. “It’s a joke, right? It’s a _fucking_ joke…”

“It’s not like that.” Finnick tried to defend them. “They’re…”

“First rule, don’t call her a bitch.” Haymitch sneered. “Second rule, you tell anyone about that and _I_ will be the one doing the gutting. Third rule, shut your mouth while I try to save your ass.”

“ _Language_.” Effie clicked her tongue.

“I don’t need help.” Mason retorted, half raising from the couch. Her legs were shaking like jelly though and she flopped back down.

He could guess what was going on in her head easily enough. You didn’t end up covered in blood outside of the arena without having a few flashbacks.

“Alright.” Effie said, clasping her hands together to grasp everyone’s attention. “Haymitch, you will call Seneca while I help Johanna clean up.”

“Crane?” He and Finnick asked at the same time while Johanna made a face at the prospect of Effie helping her to do anything.

“Yes, Seneca _Crane_.” she snapped. “Do you know of another Seneca who can help us get out of this mess? Haymitch, call on my behalf, explain everything and I am sure he will do what he can. Or do you have another idea?” He and Finnick exchanged a look. He knew they were thinking along the same lines: make the body disappear. It must have been written plain on their faces because Effie narrowed her eyes. “Oh, certainly _not_! That will only raise questions. Call Seneca and let him deal with this. That was bound to happen anyway. It’s their own _fucking_ fault.”

There was a small moment of silence.

“Did you just swear?” Finnick asked, braver than Haymitch was by far.

Her answering glare was enough to stop an army dead in its track.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” she warned.

It was enough for everyone to start doing as she had told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny cliffhanger! hahaha I am meaaaan. But on the up side... domestic hayffie! Did you like this chapter?


	65. Chapter 65

Effie was feeling sorry for the girl but her blatant hostility was also starting to rub off on her the wrong way. Johanna had refused her help in the bathroom and Effie had remained next to the door, listening to the one-sided conversation Haymitch was having with Seneca on the phone in the other room while keeping an ear to what was happening inside the bathroom in case the young victor lost her footing in the shower.

The girl didn’t linger in there for long. Five minutes and she was out, draped in one of Effie’s pink towels, devoid of blood but also very pale. Effie immediately closed the bedroom door, cutting them from the men who were still explaining the situation to Seneca.

“You’ve got a dress or something?” Johanna mumbled, holding her bloodied – and ruined – rag in her hand.

Coming from the girl that was almost civil so Effie bypassed her usual expectations for a _please_ and a _thank_ _you_ and studied the victor. She was only seventeen but an inch taller than Effie and a little wider at the hips. She would never fit in her clothes.

“I will give you something of Haymitch’s. You will be more comfortable.” she offered. She found a clean pair of sweatpants and a plaid shirt that would fit. Johanna snatched them away quickly, eyeing the content of her dressing room with open interest. She thought the victor was eyeing the dresses. “I would lent you one but I don’t think we’re the same size.”

Johanna’s glare was scary, she decided, too aware of exactly what the young woman could do with an axe – and apparently with _a knife_.

“Keep your _fucking_ clothes.” she spat, wriggling to slip the pants and the shirt on before discarding the towel on the floor.

Effie wondered if littering a perfectly spotless floor with dirty clothes was a District thing. She picked up the towel and put it away in the bathroom, when she came back Johanna was sitting on the bed, still staring at the dressing room.

“You bought him or some _shit_?” the victor asked. “That’s what that guy wanted with me, right? He thought he could buy me like a _fucking_ dog.”

Effie didn’t know what to answer to that. She wanted to fuss over the girl, to comfort and hug until she felt better, but she didn’t think Johanna would take kindly to sympathy and the victor was too aggressive for Effie to even consider reaching out to her.

“You have an appalling vocabulary.” she commented.

Johanna’s brown eyes darted to her. They were wide, the pupil blown to the point Effie couldn’t tell if the girl was terrified or mad in a completely different way than Annie Cresta was. She had heard the tales of some victors becoming bloodthirsty and always looking for a thrill comparable to the arena’s. She had also heard Snow used some of them in completely different ways than simply selling them, she had never dared ask Haymitch if he had ever killed on command.

“That’s what he wanted, yeah?” the victor insisted. “That’s what you _fucking_ Capitols do. You put us in arenas and then you sell us and buy us and use us.”

“Yes.” Effie answered very simply. What else was she to say? “And I am sorry.”

“Keep your _sorry_.” Johanna sneered, looking at her up and down. “You don’t look Capitol.”

“I look ready to go to bed.” she countered, a little impatiently. She didn’t particularly relished the thought of being seen like that by anyone but Haymitch. Her hair was wild and she had no make-up on, that were two things she would never ever consider allowing anyone to see under normal circumstances.

“’Thought you lot went to bed with their wigs and that crap on their face.” the girl snorted.

“Some of us do.” she sighed, wondering if she was expected to give the victor a crash course on what was considered acceptable and fashionable in those parts of the country. She wanted to join Finnick and Haymitch and find out about what Seneca had to say but Johanna didn’t seem in any hurry to go back to the living-room. “Haymitch doesn’t like the Capitol look.” She didn’t know why she felt compelled to add that last part, perhaps she was fishing for an excuse. She truly didn’t like the idea of anyone seeing her like that.

“You bought him.” Johanna accused, glancing at the dressing room.

Effie figured it wasn’t her dresses she had been eying after all but the men clothes.

“No.” she denied. “We aren’t like that.”

If she had thought it would score her any points with Johanna, she would have been wrong.

“Then he’s a _fucking_ traitor.” Seven’s victor spat. “You’re an _escort_.”

The word became an insult in the girl’s mouth. She couldn’t quite find it in her to dispute Johanna the argument.

“You’re very young.” Effie sighed. “When I was your age I used to think everything was black or white, now… Well, you will understand when you’re older I guess.”

“I killed six people because you made me.” the victor sneered. “I’m _old_. Don’t treat me like a kid. I could snap your neck where you stand.”

“Then don’t act like one.” she chided her, ignoring that last threat.

They glared at each other for a few seconds. Effie was painfully _glad_ not to be Seven’s escort. She truly felt for Agravia, dealing with Mason couldn’t be easy – although she doubted Agravia would keep her job much longer after the stunt the victor pulled.

“I’m not sorry I killed him.” Johanna stated petulantly, averting her eyes. “He grabbed me. I told him I was going to hurt him. He _fucking_ laughed. I’m not sorry.”

The girl’s tone was defiant, as if she was challenging Effie to contradict her. She had no reason to contradict her, she simply hoped Johanna would have no reasons to regret her decision. It wasn’t right what they had put the girl through. It _wasn’t_. Haymitch was a grown man and it was already terrible to think about what they made him do but watching Johanna right then sent her back to the very first time she had to witness Finnick going through the motions after his first appointments. 

“Come on, Haymitch and Finnick are going to wonder what we are doing.” she said.

Finnick had shed his blood stained shirt and Effie wordlessly turned back to fetch another of Haymitch’s shirt. He took it with a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry for all this.” he offered. “I got too used to running to Haymitch when I’m in trouble.”

“It’s no problem.” she reassured him, more because of her flawless manners than because she truly didn’t mind. Given the way Johanna warily circled around Haymitch – who was trying to get the blood stains off the couch – she could tell Finnick wouldn’t be the only young victor running to Haymitch in the future. He had a thing for collecting strays. “What did Seneca say?”

“He will deal with it.” Finnick winced. “Whatever that means… He said we should stay here until he gets everything under control.”

Since Haymitch was unable of entertaining guests the correct way, she took out drinks and snacks for everyone, ignoring their bemused gazes. _That_ was the proper way to entertain people, previous murder or not, and she would do things the proper way.

“I will never do that!” Johanna exclaimed, while she was arranging things on a tray in the kitchen. “They can _fuck_ _themselves_! I will gut the next one too.”

“ _Language_.” Effie snapped.

“ _Fuck you._ ” Johanna shot back.  

“Charming.” she commented, tossing a mild-glare at Haymitch. “No wonder you were rooting for her so much, her behavior might be even more improper than your own.”

They bickered good-naturally only to pass time. Finnick watched them with open amusement, Johanna with blatant disbelief but the girl seemed a little more comfortable around Haymitch now that she knew he was a fan of her fighting style – if one could call it that. After an hour or so, the tension was down a notch and it could have passed for a normal evening between friends – assuming the murderous glares Johanna was sending her each time she opened her mouth were friendly.

All in all, Effie would have been lying if she had pretended not to be relieved when someone knocked on her door.

“I will get it.” Haymitch said, already on his feet. “Stay back.” He glanced at Finnick, who had stood up too, the order explicit in his eyes. _Fall back and protect_.

It was her apartment though and if they were to be arrested, she doubted three unarmed victors would make a difference against a squad of heavily geared Peacekeepers. She ignored the hissed _“Effie”_ and hurried to the door. Haymitch was right behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his skin through her dressing gown, but he was wrong to worry. There _was_ a Peacekeeper behind the door but he was only there to escort Seneca. She ushered her friend in quickly, leaving the soldier outside.

Seneca looked impeccable as always in a turquoise suit and a pink tie knotted in a voluminous fashionable knot. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise when he saw her and she patted her hair self-consciously.

“ _Oh_.” she cringed. “You will have to excuse my outfit – or lack thereof, rather – I was going to bed.”

He hid his astonishment well, always polite. “You’re always beautiful, Effie.”

She felt Haymitch bristled with annoyance next to her. “What are the news, Crane?”

“ _Haymitch_.” she growled. “ _Manners_. Would you want something to drink, Seneca? Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.” Seneca shook his head. “I’m not staying.” He peered over her shoulder in the direction of the living-room curiously but didn’t even try to step that way. “I trust Mason and Odair are both still in there, yes?”

“You’re not arresting them.” Haymitch spat firmly.

“ _Of_ _course_ , I’m not arresting them.” Seneca huffed as if the suggestion was stupid. “How would we explain it? The body has been removed, it won’t be found, it’s not the first time something like that happens. I had to inform President Snow though. You can safely guess he wasn’t happy.”

Effie chewed on her bottom lip, lowering her voice so it wouldn’t carry to the next room where, no doubt, Finnick and Johanna were raptly listening. “She’s just a girl…”

“I know.” her friend sighed, averting his eyes. He couldn’t say it naturally but Effie thought he didn’t like this prostitution thing anymore than she did. “They won’t hurt _her_ , it would be difficult to explain. She flipped the finger at the Capitol last year, she had an official warning already and she still won’t fall in line. What she did tonight… It won’t be without consequences, you understand.”

“You’re going to butcher her family.” Haymitch scorned with so much hatred, Effie felt the need to place a hand on his arm.

“Seneca is not the enemy here.” she reminded him.

“Isn’t he?” he scoffed. “’Cause he’s the one who will give the order, sweetheart.”

Seneca couldn’t look her in the eyes, she noticed. They had been friends for a long time, she knew him well, he wasn’t proud of himself.

“Is there no way at all to avoid it?” she tried.

The Head Gamemaker shook his head once. “I managed to keep you and Abernathy out of the mess, it was difficult enough. I told President Snow _Odair_ called me which should spare him any retribution for helping Mason but it’s one lie too many, do you understand?”

“I do.” she hurried to say. “And I owe you a favor, of course, it’s…”

“This is more than a favor, Effie.” Seneca cut her off, uncharacteristically rude. His eyes darted to Haymitch but came back to her quickly enough. “I didn’t think it wise to let them know Abernathy was at your place so late at night and so comfortable calling me on your behalf. There are affairs and _affairs_ , I would advise you not to let them know just how serious this one has become.”

“Seneca…” she winced.

“I won’t tell you what to do.” her friend argued. “I had my share of bad ideas over the years and the heart wants what it wants but, Effie, you _need_ to be more careful.” He stared at Haymitch this time. “Everybody who counts knows your relationship with your brother isn’t what it used to be. You play the game and that’s good, Abernathy, but you have a rebellious spark and they know it. There are those who would welcome a new pressure point. Just in case. Do you understand me?”

She supposed that meant no shopping for a new apartment. She refused to think about what the rest implied, she had known the risks from the start, she was prepared for them.

Haymitch gave him a brief nod and a reluctant “thanks”. It befell on her to walk him back the few steps to the door and thank him profusely again. It took longer for Johanna and Finnick to leave, mainly because Haymitch had to break the news to the girl that she should be ready for a retribution coming from the Capitol. Seven’s victor only jutted her chin in the air, eyes bright but too proud to shed the tears, and spat a _“Fuck them all”_ that left Effie cringing. She was relieved when Finnick finally offered to walk her back to the Training Center.

She wanted to collapse on the couch but the stains were still visible so she went to her bedroom and sat at her dressing table instead, brushing her hair with the intention of going to bed as soon as possible. It was late and she was exhausted.

It wasn’t long before Haymitch leaned against the doorframe, watching her with grey eyes that were too intent for her tastes.

“Well, that wasn’t how I pictured the night going.” she sighed in an attempt to diffuse the sudden tension. She didn’t like the way he was studying her.

“I’m going to go back to Twelve.” he said.

On retrospect, she really should have expected it.

“Why?” she frowned. “There is no reason at all. Seneca just told you we were fine.”

“That’s not what Crane just told us.” he countered. “How long has he known about us?”

“He is _Head_ _Gamemaker_. Are you foolish enough to think they are not monitoring victors and escorts alike?” she huffed. “You are the one who taught me nothing is private in this city.”

“Yeah.” he granted, looking at his feet. “I’m going to go back to Twelve as soon as they can give me a train.”

“But there is no rush!” she argued, tossing her hairbrush on the table in anger. “We can have a few more weeks together, maybe even a month if…”

“I need to go back to my family, make sure they’re safe.” he interrupted, still not looking her in the eyes.

“Seneca just told you…” she snapped.

“I know what Crane just told me. I got it. I’m not sure _you_ did.” he snorted without any trace of amusement. It was all bitter and sad and she hated it, she _hated_ it because she knew what was coming. “Effie, we’re done.”

“Don’t be stupid.” she retorted at once.

“I’m not the one being stupid here.” he spat with irritation. “You don’t get it, you _don’t_ _get_ what’s at stakes. You want to go looking for houses like we’re ever…”

“Forget the houses. Forget I said anything.” she growled. “If it’s about your commitment phobias, I…”

“It’s about not getting you _killed_.” he shouted, effectively making her fall silent.

There was a fleeting moment of hesitation on her part, an insidious instinct of self-preservation that prevented her from protesting, and it was enough for him to nod and step in the dressing room. It took a few more seconds to realize her sight was blurred because she was crying. She rushed to the dressing room to find him already wearing a shirt and shoes, thrusting random clothes into a bag.

“You’re not leaving me.” she declared. “I have a say in this. We are partners, that’s what we agreed on. You are _not_ leaving me.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go that far.” he mumbled.

She tried to tear the bag away from his fingers but he tugged hard enough to make her stumble. He didn’t even pause or glance at her. Once he was sure there was nothing of his left, he moved on to the living-room and grabbed the books and personal items he had left lying around.

“Haymitch.” she begged. She hated herself for it. She wasn’t the crying pleading kind. When it came to men, she picked and chose and then tossed them aside for her own amusement, she _wasn’t_ the desperate kind.

“Don’t make this more complicated than it has to be.” he snapped at her with overt hostility. “It’s as good a time as any anyway. You want love and rainbows and _shit_ , Princess, and you won’t get that from me.”

“You’re scared and you are fishing at excuses to run away from your feelings.” she accused. “You’re trying to act with me like you do with Hayden but I won’t stand for it, do you hear me? _I_ _won’t_. You _don’t_ need to protect me. I can…”

“I don’t have _feelings_ to run away from.” It was delivered coldly, harshly. “You’re a good fuck, that’s all this is. That’s all it ever was.”  

“I don’t believe you.” she scowled. He wanted to make her hate him. It was his favorite tactic to escape unwanted conversations. He made himself into the villain so he didn’t have to deal with being the martyr. She had no interest in martyrs.

“Too bad for you.” he spat. “’Cause I’m done with you, Trinket.”

“Don’t you _dare_ walk out that door, Haymitch.” she warned.

He _did_ walk out the door and he didn’t even glance back, not even when she collapsed in sobs on her living-room floor.

All that was left of him was a key tossed on the blood stained couch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I'm mean. I know.


	66. Chapter 66

You never knew how cold snow was until you found yourself buried in it, Haymitch mused. It wasn’t such a bad place to be, though, he could see the sky, he could hear the honking of his geese nearby… He thought if he closed his eyes and forced himself to go to sleep, it would even be a good place to die. It would make the front pages for sure : _Drunk Victor Accidentally Slips On His Way Back To His House And Dies Of Hypothermia_. Effie might even worked with the publicity it would give Twelve.

He wondered if she would be sad or if she had already found someone new to replace him, someone younger, someone who would know how to treat her right. He hadn’t heard of her in three months, ever since he had come back from the Capitol. She still called Hayden to update him on stylists and such, but Hayden wasn’t talking to him either so there was no prying for information.

As if thinking about him had conjured him out of thin air, his brother’s face blocked his view of the sky. Too bad, the sky was particularly bright that day.

“What are you doing?” Hayden asked.

“Dying.” he answered, more truthfully than he wanted to.

His brother shook his head and hauled him to his feet without leaving him a choice in the matter. He let out an annoyed grunt when he realized Haymitch couldn’t stand upright by himself – too drunk, _way_ too drunk, and yet not enough.

“Did you drink the whole _bloody_ District stock?” Hayden grumbled. “You smell like a distillery.”

“I wanted sleep.” he mumbled, leaning heavily against his brother.

“A nap in the snow in winter, yeah, I can see why you think you’re the brain in this family.” Hayden scoffed.

“Didn’t sleep in ages.” he confessed without truly knowing why. Alcohol had that effect on him sometimes and he really had too much to drink this time.

“Nightmares, I know.” Hayden replied, less sarcastic. “Mama said you’re screaming every two nights.”

He screamed in his sleep because the nightmares were vivid and more violent than ever. His remedy had been _not_ to fall asleep but that only worked for so long and he couldn’t take it anymore. He had _needed_ some undisturbed hours of rest and he had turned to the bottles he stashed in the geese pen, which he tried to avoid lately because he was attempting to stay on the right side of that edge, not to get dependent on the stuff more than he already was. He could only afford so many liabilities.

“Need more booze.” he slurred. He wasn’t ready to pass out yet and if he wasn’t ready to pass out, it meant the nightmares would come.

“’Don’t think so.” his brother refused, struggling to open the back door of the house. Everything was blurry and Haymitch couldn’t make out details but his mother’s voice rang unfortunately clear in his ears.

“Hayden, did you find him?” she called from further down the house. She came into view as they neared the stairs, her face painfully disappointed as she spotted him. “Oh, dear.” she sighed, her lips pursed in disapproval. “What did you do to yourself now, Haymitch?”

“I’ve got him.” Hayden said, before dragging him up the stairs and all the way to his bedroom. Haymitch was dropped on the bed, his shoes tugged off, his shirt followed suit and he started thrashing when he realized Hayden intended to strip him completely. “Don’t be difficult. Your clothes are damp, you will catch your death.” his brother snapped.

“I don’t like being touched.” Haymitch grumbled.

“You like it well enough when it’s women twice your age.” Hayden retorted.

Haymitch laughed. It was bitter and rough and Hayden clearly didn’t understand what was so funny but he didn’t try to struggle anymore so his brother let it be, helping him into pajamas instead.

“Get me booze.” he begged when Hayden forced him to lie down under the blankets. There was something deeply humiliating in being tucked in by his little brother but it had become the norm so long ago that he couldn’t quite care. “ _Please_.”

“You don’t need alcohol, you need some sleep.” Hayden argued, pressing on his shoulder until he was lying flat on his back. “You’re exhausted.”

He _was_. 

“I don’t want to see…” he prattled on, desperate for his brother to _understand_. He couldn’t simply lie down and close his eyes, he _couldn’t_ do that knowing the nightmarish visions were waiting for him. “Let me…”

“Are they worse than usual?” Hayden frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed, still pinning him down with his hand. “The nightmares?”

He almost wanted to laugh again. It _was_ worse. Far, _far_ much worse. He had learned to cope with dead tributes blaming him for their deaths, he had learned to accept the ghosts of the people he had killed coming back to haunt him, he had even accepted that Maysilee would always be lurking in a corner to remind him she should have won instead of him, but multiple scenarios of his loved ones dying? That was certainly not new but the relentlessness of the dreams was slowly killing him.

“Maybe we should call the doctor.” his mother’s voice suggested from somewhere around the threshold. Haymitch couldn’t see properly, he was too drunk, too tired… “I don’t think he is well.”

“Don’t worry, Mama.” Hayden answered in a reassuring voice. “He’s just sleep deprived. He will be fine once he gets some rest.”

The following conversation was lost to him. Try as he might, he couldn’t fight it, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

He never knew when the dreams started. He never _felt_ them starting. He felt them _ending_ though.

He startled awake with a gasp, short of breath and his legs tangled in sheets.

“ _Effie_!” he cried out, the last image of his nightmares seared on his eyelids. His head was pounding and his heart was racing, he knew his body was shaking either from the remnants of the dream or from exhaustion. The small weight of a hand on his shoulder was enough to convince him to take a deep breath, the room was dark but he could feel another presence in the room, on the bed. “Effie?”

He reached a hand towards her.

“It’s me.” his brother said, letting go of his shoulder.

Haymitch blinked, finally taking in the surrounding furniture. It was his room, he was at home and his brother was sitting with his back to the headboard, over the covers, as if it was completely natural.

“We’re too old for pajamas parties.” he sighed. “’Told you already. Get me some aspirin.” Hayden didn’t even get up, he handed him a glass of water and two pills that had obviously been ready for him for some time. His brother reached for the light switch but Haymitch winced. “Don’t.” His eyes would never forgive him any exposure to light and his head was throbbing enough as it was. He handed the glass back to Hayden and flopped back down. He couldn’t close his eyes though. Each time he did, he saw _her_ again.

It had been the same for weeks now – or a variation of the same scenario at least – Effie always ended up dead. Sometimes when the nightmare started, it was Mabel standing in front of him but it always ended with _Effie_ dead in his arms.

“You kept calling for Effie.” Hayden commented.

“No _shit_ , Sherlock.” he muttered. He had been dreaming about her ever since the night Mason had crashed at their door. _There are those who would welcome a new pressure point_ , Crane had said. He had been a complete idiot to think it could work, a complete unforgivable _idiot_. He should have let her leave when she had first talked about it. He should have driven her away like he did every other escort. Hell, he should have listened to Chaff’s and Mags’ initial advice and _stay clear of her_.

“You know she moved?” his brother asked. “She found a new place. She said she needed a new project and she’s having fun decorating.”

“So you’re talking to her again?” he snorted. It didn’t even surprised him.

“Not really. But you know how she is… She talks and talks whether you want to listen or not.” Hayden shrugged. “She doesn’t sound so good lately. You don’t look so good either. I can add one and one. Want to tell me what happened?”

“We’re done.” he spat. “You can stop giving her the cold shoulder. She’s all yours again.”

“It was never about you.” Hayden heaved out a long suffering sigh. “Well, yeah, it _was_ a bit about you but not only. She lies. I can’t take lies.”

“She lied to you ‘cause I asked her to.” he argued for the thousandth time.

“And it doesn’t change the fact she still did it.” his brother snapped. “Drop it already. That’s between her and me anyway.”

“What are you even doing here?” he growled. “Are _we_ on speaking terms now?”

It was dark enough that he couldn’t quite see Hayden’s face. He wasn’t sure he would have looked anyway. He was too tired to even care. It was a strange sort of exhaustion, the sort he could feel down to his bones, his body weighed tons, his mind wasn’t a good place to be, and there was a hole in his chest in the shape of one Effie Trinket. He missed her, he _craved_ her, he hated that he felt he couldn’t _breathe_ properly without her. And it wasn’t just that, it was everything else too. The constant threats, the danger, the ghosts in his head, the secrecy…

There was a point, he figured, where everything was simply too much to take. Twenty-one years was a good run all things considered.

“Mama’s scared.” Hayden stated slowly. “To be honest, I’m scared too. Have you looked in a mirror lately, Haymitch?”

“I avoid it if I don’t have to.” he chuckled. “Why? It’s so bad I should shave again?”

He probably _should_. He hadn’t bothered in some time and he was sporting a beard out of laziness rather than choice. It wasn’t particularly enjoyable – it was unkempt and it itched.

“Mama’s scared you’re going to do something stupid.” his brother replied. “Frankly, getting drunk and taking a nap in the snow isn’t the worst thing you could have done.”

So that was why his mother had been watching him like a hawk as of late.

“I’m not suicidal.” he scorned. “You can go back home in peace.”

He had hoped it would convince Hayden to leave him alone but his brother was as stubborn as he could be sometimes. “Is it Effie?”

Her name was a punch to the stomach. He curled up instinctively, knowing his brother would spot the tale and understand he had hit right where it hurt but unable to stop himself anyway. Thinking about her was physically painful. 

_You’re scared and you are fishing at excuses to run away from your feelings. You’re trying to act with me like you do with Hayden but I won’t stand for it, you hear me? I won’t. You don’t need to protect me._

She had looked desperate when she had uttered those words. He had thought pretending it had only been about sex would have been easier, he had thought making her hate him would have hurt her less but it was stupid, she knew him too well, and it hadn’t hurt less. If anything it had hurt more. He should have talked to her, maybe, _reason_ with her… It made no difference, it was too late now. He had broken her heart – and his in the process – and there was no comfort to be found except in her safety.

The furthest she was from him, the safest she was.

“I don’t get it.” Hayden scoffed. “You love her. I _see_ it. Why do you need to…”

He was tired, so, _so_ very tired.

It was dark, he was still slightly drunk, he was heartbroken and he was worn out by his whole life. He needed his brother – the brother he used to talk about everything with, the brother he used to challenge to do stupid things, the brother he shared everything with… He had tried to always been there for Hayden – and he had failed spectacularly – but for once, _he_ needed _him_. Twenty-one years of secrecy was enough. He didn’t have the strength to carry the weight alone anymore.

“Mabel died because I was in love with her.” he cut him off. “I _can’t_ be in love with Effie. You understand why or you want me to draw you a _fucking_ picture?”

There was a long tangible silence. It was so heavy Haymitch could almost _touch_ it. He supposed that was what they called the elephant in the room, Mabel had always been a forbidden topic, never to be mentioned, never to be even thought about.

“Mabel died because she was caught poaching.” Hayden corrected him tentatively. “You were still in the Capitol, she went out in the woods and…”

“They killed her because I held Maysilee’s hand until she died, because I used the force field to win.” He forced the words out through the lump in his throat. There would always be a lump when he thought about Mabel, she had been his best friend for years before she became his first love. “They killed her because I showed the Capitol up. They killed her to punish me.”

There was a longer stretch of silence, its nature slightly different.

He wondered if Hayden would be angry. He had known Mabel all his life, she had already been hanging around Haymitch when he was born and she had been there throughout his childhood like an aloof big sister. When Haymitch had been shipped to the arena, he had left her with strict instructions to look after Hayden if he didn’t make it back. 

“How certain are you…” Hayden asked.

“ _Very_. They made me watch.” he chuckled bitterly.

“Made you watch? But…” his brother sounded distraught.

“You don’t want to know.” Haymitch told him very seriously. He was regretting saying anything already but it was just becoming _too much_. He had reached the breaking point. “You think you do but _you don’t want to know_. Stop asking Effie about it, stop…” He took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I am a _shitty_ brother to you, okay? I’m sorry. I tried to do the best I could.”

He blamed sleep-deprivation for that little outburst.

“Is that the big secret?” Hayden whispered. “They killed Mabel?”

He rolled on his side, his back to his brother, thankful for the surrounding darkness. “Part of it.”

“What’s the rest?” Hayden frowned.

He closed his eyes, tried to will the words out of his mouth. It was now or never probably. It was almost all out in the open, he might as well just go and tell all of it, rip the bandage. “I can’t.”

He waited for his brother to insist but it never came, instead Hayden placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not a shitty brother. Well, yeah, you’re _shitty_ and I hate you sometimes but you’re also mine so…”

Haymitch snorted but didn’t offer any comment. He felt lighter but not less exhausted. “You can’t tell Mama. I don’t want her… You can’t tell Mama, okay?”

Although the whole District had figured why Mabel had been executed, he couldn’t imagine his mother didn’t know. She was too clever for it to be otherwise.

“Effie knows all this?” Hayden asked.

“She knows everything.” he mumbled, feeling his eyelids drooping again. He fought it, he fought it tooth and nails because one nightmare involving her dead in a puddle of her own blood was enough per night.

“And she still wants to be with you, right?” his brother pointed out.

He didn’t ask how Hayden could know that, Effie was his best friend after all.

“Doesn’t matter. Not safe.” he replied.

“Why? Someone threatened her? You’re planning on using another force field? On pulling another one on the Capitol?” Hayden challenged. “Or you’re just being a coward and using what happened more than twenty years ago to avoid your feelings?”

There was a lot to oppose to that but he was drifting off, his mind already half gone in slumbers.

“I want her safe.” he slurred. “I want you all safe.”

He never saw Hayden shaking his head in fond exasperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to be the bearer of bad news, you know me! But... I can’t promise there will be a chapter next week. For those of you who follow me a little everywhere, you may know I have oral exams to pass which means I am supposed to be in Paris on Monday. For several reasons, I’m not sure if I’m going or not yet so I can’t say if there will be a chapter or not next week since I don’t know where I will be. I’ll keep you updated on tumblr.
> 
> This being said... I hope you liked this chapter? There will be more Hayden and Haymitch bonding next time! Let me know what you think!


	67. Chapter 67

“Eat it all.” Iris ordered as if he were a small child. Given than she had grounded him to his bed for almost a week, Haymitch figured it was in his interest to comply if he didn’t want to be sent to his room again – there was only so much _rest_ he could get without going stir crazy – for a small thing of a woman, his mother _was_ scary.

For a few minutes, all that could be heard in the kitchen was the noise of his spoon hitting the side of the bowl of soup. His mother was leaning against the sink, watching him like a hawk. He truly had scared her, he mused, even though it hadn’t been his intention. Truth be told, he might have pushed the line with the lack of sleep. He had been a zombie for days and even now his mind wasn’t completely clear.

“Where’s Hayden?” he asked her, curious despite himself. His brother had come and gone during the past week but he was hoping their relationship was if not repaired at least salvaged. He had sat with him after some of the worst nightmares and finally seemed to have taken a hint and dropped the Effie matter entirely.

“Oh, he will be back shortly.” his mother smiled. “With a _surprise_. Now be a good boy and finish your bowl.”

“You realize I’m not five, right, Mama?” he snorted but made a point of eating the soup.

“It’s difficult to tell when you act like it, Haymitch.” she replied, shaking her head at him with fondness. There was a seriousness underneath it all though, pain.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.” he grumbled, bringing the bowl to his mouth only to have something to hide behind. He would have welcomed a glass of something alcoholic but they didn’t even let him have wine since his last drunken stunt – taking a nap in the snow apparently warranted being punished like a kid – so he had to make do. He had apologized to his mother at least ten times, had sworn that she shouldn’t concern herself with him, that he was fine just tired, but nothing seemed to convince her, not even Hayden’s reluctant promises that he was telling the truth.

“I am your mother, I always worry about you.” she sighed. “I just wish… I wish you would talk to me about what’s bothering you instead of letting it eat you up so badly. You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Mama, I know.” he lied, forcing a reassuring smile on his lips. It came easily. Habits. “So what’s the surprise?” To be honest, he was wary. Last time Hayden had wanted to surprise him, he had been fourteen and Hayden nine, and they had had to deal with a flea infestation – it was a long and complicated story and he would rather never think about it again because getting rid of a hundred fleas had been _difficult_.

The noise of the front door slamming shut startled him but Iris simply smiled. “See for yourself.”

“What are you plotting?” Haymitch frowned. He had stayed in his room for a whole week and it was clear that, somewhere along the line, he had missed something. He just hoped Hayden wasn’t bringing home another flea-infested stray. It would be just like his brother to give him a dog – that would simply flee never to be seen again after shedding its fleas all over the house – to cheer him up and leaving him to deal with the animal later on – that was how he had ended up with a full gaggle of geese in the first place.

“Hello, Haymitch.”

His whole body tensed.

His back was to the door, which was probably a good thing because he briefly closed his eyes at the familiar sound of her voice, too many memories of that very same voice screaming in pain in his nightmares assaulting his mind. He turned his head, not sure he wasn’t having a hallucination, but there she was, Effie Trinket in all her glory, in gold from wig to shoes. And right behind her, Hayden was sporting a very satisfied grin.

Haymitch decided he hated his brother.

“ _Well_! Hayden said you were ill but you look like hell!” their escort huffed. Her smile was strained and she never quite made eye-contact. “Iris! I’m so glad to see you! How are you?”

He watched Effie embrace his mother, feeling as if it was all surreal.

“You can thank me later.” Hayden whispered, dropping on the chair next to his while Iris and Effie were making small talk.

“I will. With a fist in your face.” he retorted equally low, before raising his voice enough to interrupt the chatter between the two women. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

It didn’t come out as he had intended it – not that he knew _how_ he had intended it because he didn’t quite knew how he felt about Effie being right there in front of him.

Effie frowned, cut off mid-sentence – which he knew she hated – and obviously taken aback. Her blue eyes immediately sought Hayden’s. “I thought you said it was _Haymitch’s_ idea?”

“Yeah, I may have embellished this part a little.” Hayden snorted.

She narrowed her eyes at him and Haymitch mused that his brother would have to deal with _two_ shiners later on.

“’Doesn’t say what you’re doing here.” he insisted. The Reaping wasn’t for another two months. That was a long time to be early. “You’re a little far from home.”

“Hayden thought doing a small documentary on my recovery could make people interested in Twelve since it was such a big hit last year.” their mother swiftly intervened. “And you were feeling so down lately we thought a friendly face would cheer you up.”

“Sure. I’m cheering up all right right now.” he chuckled, trying to keep his bitterness out of his voice. Effie was staring straight at the wall, her face a set mask of bubbly detachment, and he could tell she was just as ill-at-ease as he felt. “How did you manage to spin that? ‘Can’t believe anyone would be interested in a documentary on us.”

“Seneca authorized it.” Effie answered, the perfect amount of cheerfulness in her voice. “He thought it would make a good program for the week before the Reapings start. The traditional piece about the latest victor will be cut short this year, I heard.” She did meet his eyes then, for a fraction of second. “Her family was in an accident. Tragic, really.”

“Really?” Iris’ eyebrows shot up. “They didn’t say on TV. Poor girl. She must be devastated.”

“She is… a difficult girl to begin with.” Effie hesitated, glancing at him. He understood well enough what she wasn’t saying : Mason wasn’t being cooperative at all and it was unlucky she was such a favorite of the Capitol or Snow would probably have gotten rid of her. “Finnick is helping her through it though.”

Hayden scoffed. “You’re sure he doesn’t want to get in her pants? Poor girl.”

“Clearly, you’ve never met Mason.” he snorted, annoyed at his brother’s bad opinion of Finnick. Effie bristled the very same way.

“I wish you would give Finnick some credits, Hayden.” she snapped before clapping her hands once. “ _Anyway_. Seneca agreed and here I am to supervise the shooting.”

“How long are you staying?” Haymitch asked.

“Oh, a few days. I don’t expect it will take too long.” she answered.

The situation was quickly becoming awkward and his mother was picking up on it.

“ _Really_ , Haymitch. If I didn’t know better I would swear you have been raised by wolves.” Iris scolded him. “Please, excuse my son’s rudeness, Effie.”

“It’s alright, I am well acquainted with it.” their escort dismissed, her smile forced. “If it’s agreeable, Iris, I would like to discuss the schedule and the contents with you?”

Iris hurried to settle Effie at the kitchen’s table, placing a cup of tea and baked pastries in front of her. The following conversation was boring and both Hayden and Haymitch stayed mostly out of it, except to nod when their escort informed them that she expected them to sit down for separate interviews and a common family one.

Haymitch took advantage of her distraction to study her. Her escort persona and the make-up made it difficult for him to see how she really felt but he could glimpse cracks under the mask. She looked tired – on that front, he could sympathize – more than that she looked sad.

“You are staying here with us, of course?” Iris asked at some point. “The boys will grab your things from the train.”

Effie hesitated. “I don’t think…”

“You can stay at my place.” Hayden offered.

Haymitch almost laughed at how obviously torn their mother looked at that suggestion. Iris seemed to be divided between being overjoyed at what she clearly mistook for some kind of proof of her little invented love story and annoyed by the impropriety of a bachelor housing an unmarried woman. Her romantic side won the fight though because she held her tongue.

Effie wavered for a few seconds longer and then nodded her assent.

“Haymitch and I will go get your bags now.” Hayden declared, clasping him on the shoulder.

He grumbled and protested they didn’t need two people to carry her bags – although with Effie, you simply didn’t know, she could have brought her whole wardrobe with her – but his resistance made no difference, he was dragged out anyway. Truthfully, he was relieved to be out of Effie’s presence. It unnerved him. It was too soon and he hadn’t been prepared for it.

“That was a _shitty_ move.” he spat, as soon as he and Hayden were far enough from the house nobody would hear them. “I know you hate me but that was…”

“I don’t _hate_ you and that was me being a good brother and helping you get your head out of your ass.” Hayden cut him off. “ _Don’t_ cheat on her again – even if she says she’s okay with it – or I _will_ punch you in the face.”

“Good brother, my ass.” Haymitch growled. “You think it’s easy? You think I _fucking_ need her right under my nose?” He didn’t know how to explain how conflicted he was about her, he didn’t know how to put in words the urge to pull her to his chest that was coupled with the need to push her _away_. “I _told_ you I needed to keep her safe, I _fucking told_ you and you go and pull something like _that_? What do you think people are going to think?” Trusting Hayden with the truth had been a mistake. He should have just kept his mouth shut. He _hated_ being proven right.

“They’re going to think we’re doing a documentary on Mama’s recovery in hope it will sway some sponsors our way and Effie being the control-freak she is wanted to come and supervise.” Hayden shrugged. “You’re over-thinking this, Haymitch.”

“ _You_ are not thinking about this _enough_.” he snarled, quickening his steps. His brother had no problem keeping up pace with him though, he had long legs too. “Having her here… I don’t know what you were planning to do. Hurting me? You saw _her_? You’re only going to hurt _her_ even more. It’s…”

“I’m not trying to hurt anyone.” Hayden protested defensively before grabbing his arm. Haymitch shrugged him off but stopped. They stared at each other in the middle of the street, ignoring the curious – and a little wary – glances of the bystanders. Hayden’s eyes met his with surprising confidence, as if he had everything figured out and Haymitch was too slow catching up. “She’s not Mabel.”

“ _Don’t_ talk about Mabel _.”_ he warned. “I didn’t tell you so we could _gossip_ about her. It’s… _Don’t_ talk about Mabel.”

Mabel was a wound that would never heal and every time her name was mentioned, it was torn open anew.

“Effie _isn’t_ Mabel.” Hayden said again firmly, completely ignoring him. “Look, I think I get it, okay? They killed your girlfriend, you were scared for us so you became like the Careers, you embraced the Capitol life, I’m wrong?”

Talking about _that_ in the middle of the street wasn’t something Haymitch wanted to do. Talking about it _at all_ wasn’t something Haymitch wanted to do.

“You don’t know _half_ of it.” he hissed.

“Yeah, okay, I don’t.” his brother granted, in a tone that clearly let him know he was humoring him. “They’re not going to hurt Effie. You’re making yourself miserable, you’re making _her_ miserable and… for what? They’re not going to kill her. She’s an escort, you see them executing an escort? It would raise questions.”

“They don’t need to _execute_ her, you stupid boy.” he snapped. “She can have a car accident, she can be mugged in the street, she can suddenly decide she wants to kill herself… If they want her dead, they have ways to do it _discreetly_.”

Hayden searched his eyes and, for one second, Haymitch thought he would finally _get_ it.

“They don’t have a reason to.” his brother argued. “You’re practically the poster child for the perfect victor. They don’t have a reason to…”

“ _Yet_.” he cut him off. “They don’t have a reason to _yet_.”

“Are you going to give them one?” Hayden frowned. “’Cause the way I see it, we’ve been left alone for years, Haymitch. Nobody cares about us aside for your fans and they’re on the decreasing side lately.”

He shook his head and started walking in the direction of the train station again. It wasn’t Hayden’s fault if he didn’t understand. How could he? He only knew parts of the story.

“You’re scared of losing her, I get it, but…” Hayden argued.

“No.” Haymitch scorned. “No, you don’t _get it_. I’m not _scared_ , I’m _terrified_. And it’s not about losing her, I lost her already and, yeah, sure, it’s hard but she’s alive, she’s breathing and I can live with that. Her being dead? That would _destroy_ me just like you or Mama being dead would destroy me.”

“But nobody is threatening us _now_ , are they?” his brother frowned.

“A victor’s family is always under threat.” he scoffed. “How do you think they get us to fall in line? Play the game, that’s the rule. Mason didn’t follow them, you heard what happened to her?”

Hayden stopped walking, probably expecting Haymitch to do the same but he went on. It took almost a minute for his brother to catch up with him.

“Nobody ever threatened you or Mama.” Hayden’s voice was guarded and the hand he placed on Haymitch’s arm was shaking. “Haymitch, what did you do?”

“What I had to.” he spat.

His brother’s fingers bundled the sleeve of his coat in a fist and, for one second, he was brought back to earlier times when Hayden would trail after him, latched on some part of his frayed clothes not to be left behind.

“The booze, the women, _everything_ … It’s an act, right? You play at being the perfect victor, you give them what they expect to see, what they _want_ to see.” his brother deduced. Haymitch didn’t confirm or deny, he simply kept on walking, trying not to mind that Hayden was tugging on his coat. “You do this to protect _us_? _That’s_ your big secret? You’re playing at being a douchebag just to _keep_ _us safe_?”

Again, it would probably have been the perfect time to come clean about the _special appointments_ but Haymitch found he still couldn’t do it. And after all, why would he have to? Hayden knew almost everything now, what if a small fragment of truth was left aside?

“Haymitch.” Hayden scowled, pulling on his coat to effectively stop him.

There was a long silence and he couldn’t quite look his brother in the eye. Hayden’s face was dismayed, ashamed and a thousand other things he didn’t want to linger on. A part of him was feeling gleeful about the obvious remorse he could glimpse here and there because it had been around twenty years of his brother acting all disappointed and judging. He wasn’t all innocent, though, there were things Hayden usually held against him that were true : his unwillingness to get involved in the mentoring first and foremost.

“I _do_ like the booze.” he said after a while. They had reached a brand new level of awkward. 

“Is that all of it?” Hayden asked. “No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.” he lied.

Hayden looked stunned. He rubbed a hand against his face, nodding all the while. “I can’t believe you never told us. _Me_.”

“You were eleven.” he sighed, prying his coat away from his brother’s fingers.

“I’m not eleven anymore.” Hayden pointed out. “I’ve not been eleven for a long time. When are you going to stop treating me like a child?”

“Never.” he snorted. “You’re my baby brother.”

Hayden scoffed at that but started walking again. They reached the train station and grabbed Effie’s luggage – he was certain she would have words to say about how he had dropped all her bottles and beauty accessories in the vanity case but he didn’t fancy packing her things – all in silence. It wasn’t until the iron gates of the Victors’ Village were looming ahead that Hayden spoke again.

“Me being reaped…” his brother hesitated “It was…”

“Will it change anything to go into that?” Haymitch snapped. “It was ages ago.”

“No.” Hayden admitted. “But it explains some things.”

Haymitch’s breathing was labored and that had nothing to do with the heavy suitcase he was carrying. He dropped it at Hayden’s house, leaving it in the hall for his brother to haul up the stairs later. It was a glaring pink, so _Effie_ his heart was aching.

“You shouldn’t have told her to come.” he said.

The fight had left him. The anger, the resentment… It was all gone, leaving him to feel hollow again.

“You know…” Hayden ventured. “I get that you want to protect her but maybe it’s her choice too. You lied to me for so long, Haymitch… I don’t even know what I feel about that right now, that’s a lot to take in, but… I think it means something you told _her_ the truth.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t go twisting that into a fairy tale story. I told her the truth from the start ‘cause I needed her to keep her mouth shut. Business arrangement, nothing else.”

“You didn’t need to tell her about Mabel, did you?” his brother pointed out, clearly unconvinced. “You said she was special. Maybe you should learn from your mistakes. I’m not eleven and I don’t need my big brother to fight my battles or to protect me. Maybe Effie doesn’t need you to protect her. Maybe she just needs _you_.”

He mulled that over for a few seconds and then snorted. “You’re full of bullshit today, aren’t you?”

Hayden shook his head at his refusal to accept his opinion.

Haymitch pretended his brother didn’t have a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Next chapter, there will be payback to be have XD Effie is ANGRY


	68. Chapter 68

Ladies never slammed doors but Effie felt there were exceptions to be found and Hayden making her travel across Panem in hope Haymitch was done with his commitment crisis justified such an exception.

Dinner at the Abernathy household had been awkward on so many different levels she had longed to escape for hours. The short walk from Haymitch’s house to Hayden’s had been enough to make her go from angry to _mad_. Slamming the front door behind her seemed like a good way to let the junior victor know that.

Hayden clearly wasn’t as clueless to her irritation as he acted because he immediately turned around to face her, hands raised defensively in front of his chest. “Now, Effie, I know you’re angry…”

“I am not _angry_ I am _furious_.” she growled.

“Yeah…” he winced. “I was afraid you would say that.”

She advanced on him, poking his chest with an accusing finger. “You have been refusing to talk to me _for a whole year_ and _suddenly_ you call me and say I should come to Twelve as soon as possible, so _naturally_ I think you have finally come to your senses and are willing to talk things through. _Then_ you serve me a tale about Haymitch’s supposed idea about a documentary that, I can assure you, nobody in the Capitol will care about, so I think _Haymitch_ is willing to talk things through too. And when I _finally_ arrive here after _days_ of negotiating and pleading with Seneca, what do I find out?”

His wince only deepened. “Effie…”

“Have you _any_ idea what the last months have been like for me? _Any_ _idea_?” she snapped, choking on the lump in her throat.

The last three months had been _hell_. She had no way of contacting Haymitch, no way of talking to him _privately_ about what was going on between them. As far as she knew, they were as done as he had proclaimed them to be before he had stormed out of her apartment. The break up had hit her hard, harder than any other she had faced in her life. She loved him. Three months trying to reason with herself hadn’t changed that. She suspected _years_ of trying to reason with herself would _never_ change that.    

She had thrown herself in work: she had courted stylists, she had run from party to party in hope of making contacts for possible sponsoring, she had accepted guest modeling jobs just so she would have a little more public attention, she had taken up fifty different photoshoots… She had been exhausting herself just so she didn’t have to _think_. Her flat was a constant reminder so she had gone ahead and sold it. She had lived at her parents for a week and when that had become too much to bear, she had bought another one, the first one she had found, and had busied herself remodeling, decorating and very much pretending she wasn’t taking Haymitch’s tastes into account.

In short, she had spent the last three months in a sort of emotional limbo, not able to properly grieve for their relationship, all the while furious at the way he had handled things.

“I know you consider we are not friends anymore.” she hissed. “But that was _bad form_ , Hayden, _worse,_ that was _cruel_. And, honestly, I am _disappointed_ and _appalled_ that _you_ …”

“Haymitch told me everything.” he cut her off, effectively bringing her rant to a stop.

She stood there for a few seconds, too aware of the glaring lights lamps overhead, a little out of breath. “I beg your pardon?”

_Everything_ was quite vague, she thought.

“Mabel, the threats…” he shrugged, placing his hands deep in his pockets. “I told you he has been ill, well… I don’t know if it’s the sleep deprivation or the broken heart but he finally came clean.”

“ _Broken heart_ might be pushing it a bit far.” she argued, to gain some time to _think_.

“You wouldn’t say so if you had seen him last week.” he retorted. “He’s been out of it ever since he came back from the Capitol after Victory Tour. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep…” He shook his head. “See, my brother thinks he’s a genius but he’s a big baby – Mama’s words – and he’s not good with anything involving feelings. I guess I understand why now. I can’t imagine what he’s been through all those years…”

“Hayden…” she breathed out. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, warn him perhaps, warn him that Haymitch was fragile underneath it all and that the wrong word from his brother would send him spinning into a world of self-depreciation.

“It doesn’t make everything okay.” he continued. “I mean… I get that he felt he needed to put up an act for the Capitol but it doesn’t make everything okay. He did some pretty _shitty_ things that he didn’t really have to do. Like cheating on you. He could just have…” He shrugged again. “I don’t know, I suppose there are other ways to be the perfect victors than publicly having affairs with older women.”

He didn’t know about the special appointments, she deduced. Whatever Haymitch had told him, it hadn’t included _that_. She couldn’t say she was surprised.

“I don’t think he felt he had a choice.” she offered, cautious of her wording.

“Yeah, I guess.” he nodded. “I just don’t understand why all the secrets. He could have told me about Mabel and the threats years ago. He could have _said_ something instead of letting me think he was a total jerk.”

“He was protecting you and your mother.” she explained. “He wanted you to remain oblivious to the threats so you had a chance at being happy.”

“Like he’s protecting you right now?” he snorted. “How does it feel, Effie? You’re happy yet?”

She wanted to argue it was different but she wasn’t blind enough not to know it wasn’t. She knew exactly that Haymitch suddenly fleeing her apartment – and her life – was because of Seneca’s warning that some people were suspecting they weren’t just fooling around, that it was more serious than that. She wasn’t stupid. She understood where he was coming from. She loved Haymitch for his selflessness in protecting those he cared about but she also knew it came with its own set of problems.

“Do you think you are in danger?” Hayden asked seriously.

“Right now? No.” she answered honestly. “But there is a possibility that I will be in the future.”

“And you’re alright with that?” he insisted.

“ _Alright_ is a big word.” she chuckled bitterly. “But I have made my peace with it.”

“Then you need to talk to Haymitch.” he advised. “And set his ass straight.”

“ _Language_.” she wrinkled her nose.

He wasn’t done though. “He thinks you’re going to end up like Mabel. I don’t know what happened between the two of you but…” He sighed. “He loves you. Maybe he’s too stupid to tell you, but he loves you and he’s miserable and as much as I hate him sometimes, I hate seeing him like that even more. Please, fix it.”

Well… She hadn’t come all the way to Twelve to go back empty handed. The least she could do was _try_.

“What about our friendship? Can I fix _that_?” she asked.

Hayden’s grin was hesitant but genuine. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.” she declared. “You are going to hug me, admit there are wrongs on both sides and we will put the last year behind us.”

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms. “Come here, then.”

She hugged him readily, holding fast and tight. “I missed you, Hayden. Don’t be an idiot anymore.”

“Could say the same to you.” he rebuked her. “No more lies.”

She went to bed that night feeling a little lighter but sleep still eluded her. She had a feeling fixing things with Haymitch wouldn’t be as easy as finally talking their problems through with Hayden.

She bid her time, knowing she needed to approach Haymitch at the right moment but also aware there would be _no_ perfect timing. She waited until the following afternoon, leaving Hayden to supervise the camera crew while they shot various images of Iris around the District, doing groceries shopping, talking to people, anything that provided an insight in her everyday life.

The director Seneca had assigned to them was the only one they could spare: Cressida was barely eighteen, had never directed anything alone in her life but she seemed like a competent young woman to Effie – and above all, one who wouldn’t make ridiculous demands or make Twelve a laughing stock – so she was confident that leaving her in charge wouldn’t be a huge disaster. Her claim of having a headache fooled everyone but Hayden who grinned at her and mouthed a _good luck_ she was certain she would need.

Haymitch wasn’t a difficult man to track down. She found him in his backyard, leaning against the pen, throwing pieces of stale bread to his pets. He must have heard her approach, she was nowhere near discreet: snow crunched under her heeled boots.

“I thought geese flew to warmer parts of the country during winter.” she offered as a conversation opener.

“They’re domestic geese.” he replied as way of an explanation.

She stood next to him and watched the birds fight for pieces of bread for a few minutes. The silence wasn’t truly awkward but it certainly wasn’t comfortable either.

“You told Hayden.” she whispered when he was out of bread. She was afraid he would use the excuse to go back inside and, as much as she would have loved not to stand in the cold, she knew it would put an end to the exchange.

“I didn’t tell him about the prostitution.” he said. “We’re keeping that between us.”

“It’s the first time I hear you call it this way.” she pointed out, surprised. It was always _appointments_ to him or some business term that should never apply to human beings.

“I’m a whore.” he snorted. “What’s the point of sugarcoating?”

“You are _not_ a whore.” she growled, placing a hand on his arm. She searched his face but he was staring at the geese.

“I’m what they made me and that’s little more than their bitch.” he insisted. “I’m so _fucking_ tired of it, Effie.”

“Let me help.” she demanded, squeezing his arm. He wasn’t wearing a coat and it was so cold outside he must have been freezing.

He closed his eyes and shrugged her hand off gently. “I need you to stay away from me, that’s how you help. You stay safe and you find someone to be happy with.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance. “ _Fine_.” she scowled. “I will find someone else. I will find a pretty boy or maybe I will seduce Seneca. Shall I do that? Of course, he likes pretty boys too, but he’s sometimes partial to women and I think he could be convinced. We’ve been friends for a very long time, he and I, we had our share of drunken making out sessions over the years, he loves using tongue when he kisses. I wonder how good it would feel if…”

He pinned her against the pen with a growl. The wood wasn’t made for such assaults and the whole thing rattled and shook a bit. Behind her back, she could hear the geese honking in protests and flapping their wing; for a second she wondered if the birds would attack but she didn’t let that thought rain on her parade.

“That’s what I thought.” she triumphed. He didn’t answer, he was too busy heaving with barely suppressed anger. She wasn’t done, though. “Are you thinking about it? Are you _picturing_ it? Seneca’s head between my thighs and…”

“ _Shut up_. You made your point.” he snarled. His mouth crashed on hers but he drew back before she had time to respond. “ _Fuck it_ , Effie, I’m trying to do the right thing. Why can’t you see that?”

“I see it.” she huffed. “But you are not the boss of me, Haymitch. I can make my own decisions. That was one of my conditions when we started our relationship: _we_ _are_ _partners_. If I thought it was truly dangerous for us to be together right now, believe me I would take my distances. It would kill me, yes, but I would do it. I am neither stupid nor suicidal. You don’t need to take decisions for me, I am so _furious_ with you when you do that. It’s insufferable. _Now,_ next time you put it into your head to play martyr, I want you to picture Seneca going down on me. I want you to picture it in details and remember this moment.”

“Are you trying to convince me to kill the guy?” he spat. “’Cause right now, you’re making a convincing plea.”

“I’m trying to convince you to stop being stupid.” she corrected, resting her hands on his arms. He was gripping the wooden planks of the pen on either side of her so hard his knuckles were white. “Haymitch… I am not happy without you.”

She pressed her lips against his but even though he was staring right at her, his eyes so dark she had no doubt he wanted this, he remained unresponsive. She never insisted when he wanted his space, always wary of triggering bad memories, but she was tired of his stupidity. She wasn’t a damsel in distress and he wasn’t the knight who would rush to her aid. She poked his lips with her tongue, coaxing until he surrendered with a quiver, closing his eyes and opening his mouth in the same breath.

She wasn’t overly surprised when the kiss turned brutal and he lifted her up, his hands roaming under her skirt. She wrapped her legs around his waist and stopped kissing him long enough to remind him they were outside.

She honestly didn’t know how they made it to his room.

He tossed her on the bed and almost ripped the clothes off her body, ignoring her admonitions to be careful – the dress was expensive and she didn’t have an unlimited amount of outfits in her suitcases. She had barely managed to get him down to his boxers when he kneeled next to the bed, grabbing her under the knees and pulling her closer, he tossed her legs over his shoulders and went straight to work, leaving her to bundle the sheets in her fists and bit her bottom lip to swallow back a cry.

“’Think Crane can make you feel like that?” he taunted, nibbling on the inside of her thigh until it left a clear mark.

“Never mind _Crane_.” she retorted. “Stop playing around. I want _you_.”

It only made him chuckle but given where his mouth was, she didn’t mind it so much. He wasn’t satisfied until she came with a shout; only then did he give her what she really wanted. He was impatient but made an effort to make it last, waiting until her second climax washed over her to pick up the pace and find his own release.

He rolled off of her but drew her close and she snuggled against his side, out of breath and so happy she could have shed tears of joy. She had missed him, truly.

“Never leave me again. I don’t enjoy the heartache.” she begged. “I _really_ don’t.”

It didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t promise her anything. He pressed a lingering kiss against her forehead.

“I just want you to stay in one piece, sweetheart.” he whispered. “You don’t know…”

“Yes, I do.” she cut him off firmly. “And as far as I’m concerned, there is no choice to make. I would tell you how I feel about you but I am quite certain that those particular words would send you in a panic and I can’t deal with another break up right now.”

She dropped a trail of kisses from his shoulder to his neck, hoping it would smooth the implicit statement. She almost expected him to bolt from the bed but he remained still, his arms stayed wrapped around her – if anything, he held on tighter. She supposed her feelings were no real surprise.

“It’s the last thing I told Mabel.” he confessed quietly. “Right before I left, that’s the last thing I told her.” He breathed out slowly. “They killed her because I said that.”

She cupped his cheek and nudged gently until he turned his head to look at her. “I am not going to die because of you.”

“You don’t know that.” he objected with a scowl.

“I am not exactly the Capitol’s most enthusiastic admirer these days, Haymitch.” she stated. “If they kill me over something, it’s more likely to be over something I’ve said or done than because you and I are in a relationship.”

Her wig was hanging loose, it didn’t take much for him to untangle her hair. He brushed his fingers through the blond curls a few times but it did little to chase the scowl from his face.

“Don’t be reckless.” he scolded her. “If you get yourself killed… It will be the last straw, sweetheart.”

She had no power over what would or would not happen. She had heard too many stories of people disappearing from one day to the next.

“This is _very_ depressing talk.” she sighed, propping herself up and sliding a leg over his hips to straddle him. She looked down at him, running his hands over his chest. “I don’t like depressing talk.” she pouted. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Assuming they are still on schedule – and I am confident, Hayden _will_ make sure they stay on schedule – we have one hour left. So? What are you going to do with me?”

He brushed his fingers against her thighs. “I’m not exactly sixteen anymore, sweetheart. You will have to wait a bit.”

“My poor old darling.” she teased.

He seemed to make an effort to get over his gloomy mood because he smirked. “You know I’ve never had a woman in my bed before.”

She laughed openly at that statement. “Are we roleplaying now? I have to tell you I would do a better cast for the blushing virgin.”

He rolled his eyes and whacked her thigh playfully. “I mean _this_ bed, _this_ room. ‘Never had a woman in my bed before. Spent a lot of time imagining you in it though.”

“Well, it’s lumpy and it creaks.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s lucky the house is empty because everyone would know what we’ve been doing.”

“You’re fussy, Princess.” he scoffed. “It’s comfy.”

“You and I do _not_ have the same definition of the word.” she declared. She never departed with her grin even when she leaned in to press kisses down his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked, obviously amused but a little breathless, as her mouth trailed lower and lower.

“Why, making you feel sixteen again, darling.” she mocked, biting gently on the skin near his hip.


	69. Chapter 69

**_ Chapter 69 :  _ **

Chaff let out a long whistle. “And the boy thought bringing Mason to your escort’s flat was a good idea?”

Haymitch shook his head, still not over Finnick’s stupidity in the matter. His eyes wandered around, studying the various Capitols partying around them. The bar was packed, everyone was commenting on what was happening on the different screens in the room. The Opening Ceremony had been a hit that year, there were a lot of promising tributes – none of them came from Twelve, the two kids from the Seam wouldn’t last long against that kind of competition.

“How did your girl take it?” Chaff insisted. “’Can’t believe she was thrilled.”

He finished the story, still cringing over some of it. Johanna’s family was collateral damage he would have done without but, to be honest, he was grateful Crane had managed to keep him and Effie out of it.

“Well, at least she didn’t call Peacekeepers.” Eleven’s victor snorted. “Decent for a Capitol.”

“She’s not like that.” he growled, annoyed. “What’s your problem anyway, Chaff? You’re the one who told me…”

“I told you a fling wouldn’t hurt anyone, I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with an _escort_.” Chaff pointed out. “You’re looking for trouble here, buddy.” The warning was delivered matter-of-factly. Chaff took a sip of his whiskey, his stump drumming an impatient beat against the edge of the table. “You know… One could wonder where your loyalties truly are.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “What loyalties? Last time I checked, I didn’t have any loyalties, just a leash around my neck.”

Eleven’s victor shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Well, _don’t_.” he grumbled, downing his glass in one go. He glanced at one of the screens but looked away just as fast, no willing to watch the Opening Ceremony recap. “Crane said some people had noticed.” he added reluctantly.

“No kidding.” Chaff scoffed.

“I broke it up. I tried to let her go but… I _couldn’t_.” he confessed, his eyes firmly set on the table rather than on his friend. Chaff was his _best_ friend, it had been so for more than twenty years; if there was anyone he could talk to, it was him. “If we were anyone else, I would have married her by now.”

Eleven’s victor stared at him for a few seconds and then rubbed his stump against his face. “Well, _fuck_ , Haymitch.”

“Yeah, _fuck_.” he snorted, toasting his friend with an empty glass. “It’s a good word to sum up my life.”

°O°O°O°

There were days Effie hated her job – lately, it was almost everyday.

Twelve wouldn’t win the Seventy-Second Hunger Games, that much was clear to her. During the period of training after the Opening Ceremony, she and Hayden tried to coach the kids without any real success. Talks about manners and proper behavior flew straight above their heads so it wasn’t a surprise to her no sponsors were interested. It wasn’t a surprise either that the interviews were a disaster of epic proportions that reached an unprecedented peak of embarrassment for her when the boy picked his nose while talking. Even Caesar couldn’t salvage _that_.

“We can’t teach them if they don’t want to learn.” Hayden told her and he was right.

He didn’t have much more luck with his own tips and advices about the arena. Even Haymitch had tried in the beginning, dropping hints here and there, but the tributes either didn’t want to understand or simply weren’t willing to listen.

Effie pitied them but couldn’t help thinking about some of their dead tributes who had been so clever, so _brilliant_ , and could have won if not for a lack of luck. Stella was always the first to come to mind, she was her most familiar ghost and, perhaps, the only one she didn’t mind so much. But there were all the others naturally : Heather and Gaius, Tilly and Alec… She remembered them _all_.

Bonnie and Pip, that year’s tributes, weren’t bad children. Bonnie was a nice girl – if lacking in education – and she did try her best during training, she simply wasn’t gifted with weapons and didn’t possess a cunning mind that would make up for it. Pip was small for his age but he had warmed up to Effie easily enough. Of the two, he had been the one most willing to listen to her advices but a few weeks of lessons couldn’t counteract a lifetime of bad education.

It was almost anticlimactic to stand next to Hayden in the Game Headquarters, watching the launch lost in the midst of victors, escorts and sponsors. She didn’t know if she was projecting her own feelings but it seemed to her every year the faces became grimmer, the pent-up anger more difficult to hide… There seemed to be an odd agitation around some of the victors and even some escorts looked ready to give up. The sponsors looked as oblivious as ever though, however Effie knew better than anyone not to trust a beaming smile, the one on her lips was, after all, quite convincing for a fake one.

Pip was the first to fall, his neck broken by the colossus from District Five. Bonnie tried to grab a bag at the Cornucopia and almost managed to run away with it but a knife caught her between the shoulder blades. Effie wasn’t sure who had thrown it. She didn’t particularly care either, knowing whose District was to blame wouldn’t bring her back.

She didn’t let herself feel the pain yet. She smiled until her lips hurt, accepted the surrounding commiserating comments, shook a few hands, laughed at some jokes and regularly nudged Hayden’s side so he would stop scowling and play the game.

It took them fifteen minutes to escape the room and almost fifteen more to return to the penthouse. Like every other year, Haymitch was on the couch, nursing a drink and trying not to look at the screen. Like no other year before, he opened his arms as soon as he saw them and Effie dropped on the couch and directly against his chest. Hayden didn’t comment but snatched the glass from his brother’s hand and downed what was left of it.

“I will go take care of the paperwork.” Hayden sighed.

“I will do it.” Effie offered immediately, sitting straighter. She and Haymitch had been less on their guard around Hayden – what secret relationship was there left to protect? – and she knew Hayden was pleased because they were both happier than when they had been apart but she also knew he felt like the third wheel.

“Nah, don’t worry. I got it.” He forced a smile on his lips. “You two do… Whatever, I don’t want to know. That’s gross to think about.”

“You’re gross.” Haymitch retorted in a childish fashion but as Hayden was leaving, he added: “Thanks.”

Hayden didn’t look back but he waved his hand in a dismissing way.

“You’re alright, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, brushing his fingers against her cheek.

She avoided looking at the screen. She didn’t even think about lying. What would have been the point? He would have seen straight through her lies anyway. “No.” He sighed but didn’t try to offer any placating words, instead he wrapped a hand around her neck and squeezed gently. She bowed her head to give him better access and he started massaging her shoulders without her having to ask. “I just wish I could do something to stop it.”

She had whispered the last part but it was enough to make him freeze. His grip on her shoulders was almost painful and when he leaned in to murmur in her ear, she knew it wouldn’t be any sweet nothing. “It’s treason talk, sweetheart. You’re _never_ saying that again, got it?”

She wondered if he saw how ironic it was that he would be the one to make that kind of statement. Although, she supposed it was even more ironical that she would be the one with rebelling tendencies.

“I meant losing.” she lied, taking pain to speak loud and clear so every last bug in the living-room would pick it up.

The worried lines on his brow didn’t disappear, not even when she tried to smooth them away with kisses. Then again, the sight of teenagers dying left and right on the TV screen, even on mute, would have dampened any mood. 

°O°O°O°

“You’re late.” Finnick accused, tilting his glass in Haymitch’s direction.

One quick glance told him the spot the victors had chosen was the right one on a tactical point of view, the table was secluded, near the exit and, above all, right under the loud speaker that boomed the unbearable music Capitols love so much. The bar was far enough from the main part of town that the patrons were few and nobody was paying them any attention.

“Don’t start. I’ve had a _shitty_ day.” he snapped at the boy, flopping down on the chair between Chaff and Seeder. His eyes darted from the sullen Johanna Mason who seemed to be lost in the contemplation of her glass to Mags who was watching him with open curiosity. He wondered why they had brought the old woman along, with her speech difficulties they wouldn’t be able to hear a single word she said.

His day had been a total nightmare to the point he was starting to wonder if for any good thing that happened to him there was bound to be a disaster to counterbalance the fact he had been happy for five short minutes.

After all, he and Hayden had been on relatively good terms for months, they had managed to get through this Games season without tearing each other apart and when he had seen his brother off at the train station a few days earlier, they had parted as friends. Between his good relationship with his brother and Effie, he had been feeling great. Even the nightmares had started to recede. If it hadn’t been for the Games and the two coffins they had once again sent back to Twelve, he would have declared himself _happy_. So naturally, a part of him had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. _Naturally_.

He hadn’t expected it to happen while he was visiting Effie’s new apartment for the first time. 

“Did you have a fight with your girl, lover boy?” Seeder teased.

“I’m hardly a boy and mind your own _fucking_ business.” Haymitch spat, snatching the bottle of whiskey from Chaff’s grasp. He grabbed his friend’s glass while he was at it too.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Chaff laughed. “Did you have an appointment or what?”

“No.” he grumbled. “Drop it.”

“You can always count on Haymitch to lift the spirits.” Seeder rolled her eyes. “Well, Finnick, finish your story. I want to know how it ends.”

It seemed Finnick had been in the middle of a tale about a fisherman that had been lost at sea for months. All the others were enthralled, even though Mason kept throwing sarcastic comments to disrupt the story. Haymitch snorted at some of them but he couldn’t have repeated a word anyone said or even how the tale ended.

He kept toying nervously with the ring Beetee had given him a few years earlier.

Eventually, Chaff noticed and discreetly placed his stump on his arm before nodding once at the door. Haymitch almost told him to _fuck off_ but in the end, the feeling of dread and panic coiling in his stomach was stronger than his need to handle everything by himself. He stood up and walked out without any explanation for his friends. There were a few Capitols in front of the bar so Haymitch strode further down the street, finding some relief in actually _doing_ something even if it was nothing more than taking an aggressive stroll. Chaff caught up easily after a few  minutes. 

“What happened?” his friend asked, the question devoid of his usual good humor. Chaff had obviously figured out whatever had happened was serious.

“You know what this does?” he replied, showing him Beetee’s ring.

“Pick up bugs and disrupt the signal if necessary. Yeah, I got one back at the Center, you’re not the only would-be spy here.” Chaff shrugged.

“Effie’s new place is bugged.” he stated. Hearing himself saying it aloud was even worse than the look of shock and fear on her face when the ring had turned a flashing red. “Every last _fucking_ room. I didn’t find any cameras, just bugs but…”

“Calm down.” Chaff commanded at once. He realized he had been pulling on his hair and his agitation was obvious for any passerby to see. He used to be better than this, more collected, more distant… He used to be a _player_. Now all he could think about what that his family might not be the next target after all, that _Effie_ would be killed – just like Mabel – and that he would fail to prevent it – just like with Mabel.

“Her old place wasn’t bugged.” he said on a more level tone.

“Did you do something? _Anything_?” his friend frowned.

Haymitch shook his head. “I think it’s _her_. She’s been saying things… She’s been… She’s _reckless_ , that’s what she is.”

“Effie Trinket, rebel, it’s quite a stretch.” Chaff scoffed.

“‘Cause you don’t know her.” he scorned. “What they do to the tributes, to _me_ , she can’t take it. She would do any stupid thing to help.” That was why he cared about her so much, after all, what he had seen in her at first glance: despite everything, she had a touch of purity and he was so tainted he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. “She says things.” he repeated again, lower. “And they know we’ve been together for a while. No _respectable_ Capitol would get attached to a District rat for more than a year, even a victor…”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Chaff answered. “Probably a routine check. It’s a new place, you said, maybe the bugs were there before she moved in. And even if it’s not that… Most people involved in the Games are under watch, you know the drill, Haymitch. You’re making a fuss over nothing.”

Chaff had a lot of arguments and Haymitch let himself be convinced.

He completely missed the calculating spark in his friend’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? What do you think will happen next?


	70. Chapter 70

“ _Enough_ , Fulvia.” Livia snapped. She took a dress off the rack but put it back just as quickly without truly looking at it, too busy glaring at the young woman with the blue wig.

Not for the first time that afternoon, Effie wondered why the former escort from District Six had invited the woman to join in their shopping outing. Fulvia Cardew flashed the curious saleswomen an innocent smile and then shot a disapproving glare at Livia. Effie could tell the woman was annoyed because her cheeks flushed red, making the silver flowers tattoos all the more noticeable. “Should I remind you discretion is key?”  

“Should I remind you I don’t take orders from you?” Livia retorted before taking a deep breath. When she turned to Effie, she was calm – or, at least, _looked_ calm. “Would you come with me, darling? I want to try on this dress.”

Livia grabbed an outfit at random, that would never fit her complexion, but Effie nodded and followed all the same, eager to get away from Plutarch Heavensbee’s assistant.

“I must admit I am confused.” Effie confessed, once they were alone in one of the dressing rooms. “Why did you invite her if you two are not friends?”

“She invited herself.” Livia grumbled, glancing at the dress she had chosen with disdain. “What was I thinking, this is awful.”

“I don’t like her.” Effie frowned, lowering her voice. “There is something about her… I feel like I am being tested somehow.”

In the beginning, Fulvia had been very well-behaved, polite and even pleasing but soon, her questions had turned personal and strangely inquisitive, almost aggressive – too much for Effie’s liking in any case.

“Yellow truly isn’t my color.” Livia deflected.

“Who is that woman?” she whispered. “Am I in danger?”

First her apartment was bugged, now a Gamemaker’s assistant kept poking at her feelings about her job and the Capitol as a whole… Effie wasn’t stupid, she had played dumb like she almost always did and had proclaimed her gratefulness at being able to represent the Capitol in the Districts and her love for her city but she wasn’t certain she had convinced the other woman.

“No.” Livia countered immediately, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “And you will stay that way if I have anything to say about it. _Damn_ Chaff and his stupid ideas.”

“Chaff?” she repeated, dumbfounded as much by the mention of Haymitch’s friend as by Livia’s uncharacteristic swearing. “What does Chaff have to with anything?”

Livia’s smile looked genuinely happy but Effie knew better than to trust it.

“Nothing, darling. Nothing at all.” her friend answered. “Now, let’s walk out of here so we can end this as early as possible.”

Whatever “ _this”_ was, Effie had no clue. Fulvia’s face grew grimmer and grimmer every time her implied statements that everything wasn’t right in Panem were dismissed or simply ignored. Effie kept her act together only betraying herself once when they were perusing shoes and Livia had wandered away with one of the saleswomen.

“How about your relationship with Haymitch?” Fulvia hummed, studying the navy blue shoe in her hand with attention.

Effie gaped for a second and then glared, fed up with the whole thing. “Am I being accused of something?”

“Accused? I’m not sure what you mean.” the other woman shrugged, displaying an obvious flaw in education – she was good at emulating refined ladies’ behavior but Effie had already figured out she wasn’t born to the elite of the Capitol, it was obvious to anyone who knew what to look for and her mother had made sure from her infancy she _knew_ what to look for. Looking at lower classes with disdain was something ingrained in her behavior and wasn’t working in Fulvia’s favor.

“I mean you are highly curious for a woman I just met, not to mention that you are being overly rude and acting as if you are conducting a questioning instead of shopping with a friend.” she snapped. “You are behaving like a judge, a jury and an executioner all at once so perhaps we could gain some time and you could tell me what it is you are really after here.”

For the first time since they had met, a real smile graced Fulvia’s lips. “Funny. You’ve been collected all afternoon and a single name shatters your countenance… One could almost wonder why Haymitch is such a sensitive topic to you.”

“You should know better than to listen to rumors.” she retorted, walking to another row of shoes and leaving her behind.

Fulvia wasn’t so easily deterred. She followed at a more leisurely pace. “It’s the lack of rumors that’s telling, actually. The two of you must be the worst guarded secret in the Games business but not a single whisper has reached the public. One could conclude you have very powerful friends…”

_Seneca_ , Effie thought at once. Seneca was doing what he could to shield her.

“Did it occur to you that, perhaps, I have simply nothing to hide?” she replied.

“You have plenty to hide, Effie.” Fulvia chuckled. “And you would have been a perfect replacement for Livia if it weren’t for Haymitch.”

“Replacement for Livia?” she glanced at her friend who was still talking with the saleswoman, gazing at them now and then. “I already refused District Six.” Was that what it was all about? Was Gamemaker Heavensbee testing the waters to see if she wanted a transfer? And what was the link with Chaff? Had Chaff requested her? But then what was the link with Six?

“Yes, I know.” Fulvia sighed. “A shame, really. A piece of advice though: don’t flaunt your weaknesses so much. Anyone would know where to strike to hurt you.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” she answered, completely puzzled.

Fulvia flashed her a last smile and left her there to join Livia – it was _so_ rude, Effie bristled – and then she left the shop as if nothing at all was amiss. No matter how many questions she pestered Livia with, her friend wouldn’t explain anything.

“She won’t bother you again” was all she got out of her. “And I don’t want you to worry. You are not in trouble.”

That was a very optimistic statement, Effie mused, mainly because she was late for tea with her mother and punctuality was the duty of any proper lady.

Fortunately, she escaped the lecture about how rude Effie had been to keep Elindra waiting because her mother had much more important news to impart on her. That was how she found herself nodding with a polite smile as Elindra told her _all_ about the plastic surgery she was planning for the following week. Of course, when the discussion drifted to her own body and her thirty-three unmarried self, Effie wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have preferred the lecture on punctuality.

°O°O°O°

The phone rang in the beginning of the afternoon, right after lunch, and it was such an unprecedented situation that Haymitch and his mother exchanged a glance. Iris was closer, she picked up. A beaming smile immediately appeared on her lips so Haymitch relaxed, figuring it was simply Effie calling for one of the gossip sessions she usually had with his mother. He lurked around the kitchen under the pretext of making tea – and not because he was missing her so much he was desperate for the tiniest bit of news; Victory Tour would be there soon enough and he was a grown man not a lovesick teenager.

“Oh, of course, dear. He’s right here.” Iris said, handing the phone to Haymitch. “It’s Effie, she wants to talk to you.”

That made him frown. They only called each other in the dead of night when no one was listening. His surprise turned to dread and he snatched the phone from his mother’s hand who clicked her tongue in disapprobation at his brutal behavior.

“You’re okay?” he asked.

_“Why, hello to you too, Haymitch.”_ Effie laughed. There was something in her voice that wasn’t quite joyful though, a _strain_.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he insisted, careful to keep his tone casual. For one thing, he didn’t want to alarm his mother, for another, he didn’t want to alarm anyone possibly listening that he had picked up on Effie’s nervousness.

“ _Well…_ ” she hesitated – it never bode well when she hesitated. “ _I may be facing a dilemma… See, my mother is having surgery in a few days…”_

“Is it serious?” he frowned. She didn’t talk a lot about her family, all he knew about it had been gathered here and there in passing comments. His own mother had plenty to say about Effie’s though. _A cow_ , Iris had spat at the time with the same kind of venom she usually reserved for the Mellark woman at the bakery. It had told Haymitch everything he needed to know. Iris despised the baker’s wife because she felt the woman didn’t treat her children right – and that was something Iris would never ever understand or forgive – and had clearly felt the same about Effie’s mother.

“ _She’s having a liposuction but that’s not the point.”_ Effie explained _. “She’s such a good customer, her surgeon offered her another surgery for half the price and she thought I might want to take him up on that offer to have my breasts redone.”_ Haymitch opened his mouth but, as if she was standing right in front of him and not on the other side of the country, she was quicker. “ _Now, I know what you are about to say but she had convincing arguments and… You have to admit my breasts are on the small side and I am not getting any younger, they will start to sag soon.”_

“That’s so stupid I don’t even know what to say.” he scoffed. He had _plenty_ to say, starting with “don’t you dare”, “please, no” and “Sweetheart, I hate fake breasts”.

“ _Hayden said they were small.”_ she argued.

“When?” Haymitch frowned. “And why is _my brother_ even looking at them?”

Iris shot him a curious glance but he waved the unspoken question away, doubting she would truly want to know what Hayden was looking at when their back was turned. Good thing, his brother wasn’t there because he felt the urge to kick his ass.

_“Because he is a man?”_ she deadpanned. _“I asked him earlier. I asked Finnick and Seneca too. I needed a man’s opinion! Finnick thinks they’re fine but he’s such a sweetheart, he wouldn’t tell me otherwise. Seneca thinks I should do it.”_

“So what, you’re asking me or telling me?” he scorned. “Since I’m last on your list.”

_“Do not be ridiculous, I could hardly only ask you, could I?”_ she sighed.

He rolled his eyes. Granted, they had agreed to try to keep a low profile – he was even more determined to do that since he had discovered the bugs in her apartment – but that didn’t mean she needed to talk about her breasts _with_ _other_ _men_.

“ _Anyway, I wasn’t planning on getting anything outrageous. Maybe a cup or two bigger… What do you think?”_ she asked.

“I think…” he started angrily only to stop himself when he caught his mother’s curious eyes staring at him. He forced himself to sound more detached. “I think you can do what you want but I don’t see why you would need… watermelons when you have nice… oranges.”

Iris frowned, even more puzzle. “Does she need cooking advices?”

On the other end of the line there was a heavy pause and, when Effie spoke again, he could tell she was annoyed. _“Are you comparing my breasts to oranges? Because I know I don’t have much in way of cleavage but honestly, this is insulting.”_

“My mother wants to know if you need cooking advices, sweetheart.” he retorted sweetly.

_“It’s your own fault for coming up with such lousy metaphors.”_ she argued. _“My mother insists men like bigger breasts… I think…”_

“ _I_ think your mother’s an idiot.” he growled. “And I think you shouldn’t do it just because she’s bullying you into it.”

_“She’s not_ bullying _me.”_ she snapped at once. “ _You are unhelpful. May I talk to your mother now? Maybe she will be of better advice than you.”_

“Yeah, I can tell you right now what she’s going to say. Same as me.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, you don’t need it, okay?”

“ _But wouldn’t_ you _like it better if…”_ she argued.

“No.” he said firmly. “You do what you want, Princess, I’m not going to tell you what to do with your own body but, _no_ , I _wouldn’t_.”

He handed the phone to his mother without any further ado and didn’t linger enough to watch the end of the conversation. He grabbed the bag of grains and decided it was time to feed the geese. Hayden showed up around ten minutes later, while he was still standing next to the pen. Haymitch took one look at the pleased smile on his lips and snorted.

“How’s Hazelle?” he greeted his brother.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hayden countered.

“Sure.” he chuckled, wondering if he had been as obvious when he had tried to hide his relationship with Effie from his brother. “So, why are you telling _my_ girl she needs to get bigger breasts?”

His tone was playful but Hayden didn’t fall for it. He raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Never said that. She asked if I thought her breasts were too small, I said yes.”

“Her breasts are perfect.” he growled.

“I wouldn’t known about that.” his brother grinned, so obviously amused Haymitch wanted to punch him. “Come on, you always went for women with big breasts… You can’t tell me you wouldn’t like it if she…”

“I like _real_ breasts.” he argued. “And I also like tall brunettes better. You see me asking her to dye her hair black? I don’t care what she looks like.”

Hayden seemed torn between mocking him and looking pleased. “You’re so far gone for her I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then you better _shut up_.” he grumbled. 

Before Hayden could answer that, the back door was slammed opened and their mother appeared, her hands on her hips and a death glare in her eyes.

“Hayden Abernathy!” she yelled. “What _in Panem_ possessed you to tell a woman she was less than beautiful? Did I raise a caveman?”

“But, Mama…” Hayden tried to defend himself.

“ _No_.” Iris cut him off. “This is unforgivable and you _will_ apologize to Effie. The _poor_ thing, between you and her awful mother she thought she needed it to be beautiful… At least Haymitch and I managed to talk her out of it. I am _deeply_ ashamed of you, Hayden. _Deeply._ ”

Haymitch beamed while Hayden sulked.

It was nice to be the good son for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Let me know!


	71. Chapter 71

Haymitch loved Victory Tour, even more so now that his _special appointments_ days seemed to be behind him. Nobody had requested his attention in a year and that was cause for celebration in his opinion.

“Do you still miss my old apartment?” Effie hummed, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

Haymitch took his time to answer that particular question. He had been reluctant at first and had dragged his feet, resisting for days before finally agreeing to visit but he had to admit that aside for the whole place being bugged, he liked that flat a lot better. It was bigger but not excessively huge and she had chosen it with his preferences in mind. The apartment was at the top of a secluded building and the huge balcony that linked the living-room and the bedroom through glass doors gave over a private courtyard that was always deserted.

The balcony was the only place in the apartment that was free of bugs and that was where they spent most of their time nowadays. The stone balustrade was high enough that it reached his hips when he was standing and, when they were lying down like they tended to do, nobody could tell they were even there. Of course, they were lying down on a mattress completed with blankets because as warm as the Capitol controlled weather always was, Effie insisted she was too old to have sex on the cold hard ground – and as much as he mocked her for it, his old bones also secretly agreed. He had lost count of the number of nights he had dragged out the mattress from the guestroom since his arrival in the Capitol for the duration of the Tour.

Lying outside with a naked Effie in his arms and the sky above his head was close to perfection as far as he was concerned. The only detail that would have made it better would have been the clear skyline of Twelve instead of the polluted sky of the Capitol – you couldn’t even see the stars from there, they were masked by the city lights.

“I could do without the constant listening.” he grumbled. He wouldn’t lie, that was a pain. Watching himself in the penthouse was complicated enough but at her apartment where everything was so _Effie_ – and if he was honest, and because she had intended it that way, so _them_ – it was difficult. The balcony was the only safe haven, just like the roof at the center. It wasn’t that he had a lot of things to hide, he figured the Capitol already knew that they were together for more than just the occasional hook-up, that train had passed, and he knew better than initiating subversive discussions, but there were things he sometimes felt self-conscious about – like telling her she was the only woman he wanted or that he needed her in far more ways than just in his bed.

“You are a grumpy old man.” Effie accused, sliding her hand from his stomach to his side. Her thumb ran on the scar once and then she snuggled against him. He pulled the blankets higher on her, mindful of her still sweaty skin and the soft breeze, and then coiled his hand around her neck. Her lips were pressed against the skin of his shoulder once in answer, before softly trailing up to his neck.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Princess.” he snorted.

“We have months of abstinence to make up for.” she argued. He rolled his eyes but his hand still traveled to her breast and he couldn’t help a smirk when she let out a soft satisfied sigh. He was _so_ very happy she had given up the idea of plastic surgery. Her giggles weren’t unwelcomed but they were certainly surprising. “I see you don’t need much convincing.” she taunted, hooking a leg between his.

“You’re right.” he chuckled, placing his hand on her waist. “I should make you beg for it. How would you like that?”

“A challenge.” she grinned in delight, brushing her fingertips up and down his ribcage. “You know I can’t resist a challenge…”

She was swift when she wanted to and with a twist of her hips, she was on him, pinning him to the mattress and dropping kisses all over his neck and upper chest. He didn’t know what shot through her head then – he didn’t know what was going through her head half the time, she could be silly one minute and deeply serious the next – but he felt the mood shift.

“I’m almost thirty-four.” she whispered against his collarbone, not looking up at him. “Next year I will be thirty-five.”

“Good to see you learned to count.” he mocked but his joke fell flat.

She still wasn’t looking at him. “Next year will probably be my last year. They will ask me to step down. I’m getting old.”

“You’re beautiful.” he argued with a frown. He didn’t know why she was so concerned with her age. He didn’t care. He was certain he would still feel the same for her when she would be seventy.

“To you.” she breathed out with a sad smile. “And I am thankful for it but… They will ask me to step down. We only have two Games seasons left together.”

He brushed his fingers through her hair, puzzled. “Is that a bad thing? You can’t tell me you suddenly like your job, sweetheart.”

She died a little more inside with each new dead tribute.

“What will happen to us, Haymitch?” she asked, finally meeting his eyes.

That was the big question, wasn’t it? What sort of future could they have? _None_. That was the logical answer that neither of them had been willing to face. He couldn’t give her more than a couple of months a year, that wasn’t fair to her.

“We’ve got two years to figure it out, yeah?” he shrugged.

She searched his eyes for a few seconds and then forced a cheerful smile on her lips. “If no one snatches me from your team… I will have you know I am _quite_ popular.”

“Are you, now?” he smirked. “Did Finnick request you to transfer again?”

“If my mother knew how many times I refused other Districts’ offers for you she would be appalled.” she laughed softly, settling down on his chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable but he let her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. Chaff and Hayden had a point : he _was_ whipped. “But it wasn’t Finnick this time. It was another of your friends and their methods were certainly… _unorthodox_. To be honest, at first I thought Peacekeepers were going to appear out of thin air and arrest me. It felt more like I was being held for questioning rather than having a job interview.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Chaff. Who sent a _Gamemaker’s assistant_ to recruit me. For Eleven or for Six, I am not sure.” She was distractedly drawing circles on his arm. “The whole thing was… strange.”

“A Gamemaker’s assistant?” Alarm bells were ringing in his ears. “Which one?”

“Plutarch Heavensbee’s. Her name is Fulvia Cardew – _not_ a high-class lady, let me tell you.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “She was rude and nosy. I don’t know what Chaff was thinking, truly. Perhaps it was intended as a joke.”

“Tell me everything.” he demanded.

“Why?” she laughed. “I have no intention of…”

“Tell me everything, Effie.” he cut her off.

It was the use of her name more than the commanding tone that prompted her to prop herself up to look at him.

“Why?” she repeated more seriously.

“I don’t know yet.” he said.

For now, he only had half-cooked suspicions and he hoped he was wrong because if he _was_ right and Chaff, Mags and who knew who else were dabbling in an anti-Capitol movement with a Gamemaker’s assistant…

The encounter had taken place a month or so earlier and her memories of it were not as precise as he would have liked but he managed to figure out a clear picture out of her explanations. Her friend Livia was involved in some way, Cardew’s inquiries were far too odd and the former District Six’s escort’s implied statement that Chaff was the one who was responsible for the meeting sent his blood boiling. It was probably fortunate his friend was in his District, out of reach.

_Effie Trinket, rebel, it’s quite a stretch,_ Eleven’s victor had laughed and then… Oh, Haymitch was going to _kill_ him. 

“And you never saw her again, right?” he insisted once she was done.

“No, I told you.” Effie was unsettled, he could tell, she didn’t understand what was going on and she didn’t like it one bit. “She said I would have been Livia’s perfect replacement except for you and a pompous declaration about me flaunting my weaknesses.”

“The weakness being me.” he nodded. “In that case, I think it’s a good thing, sweetheart.”

“What is going on?” she pressed him.

“I’m not sure.” he told her.

She slid off his chest to sit next to him, clutching the blankets to her chest and glaring down at him. “Haymitch, if you are lying to me…”

“I don’t know yet. I need to talk to Chaff and _that_ will have to wait next season.” he snapped. “Just stay _the_ _hell_ away from that woman.”

“Haymitch.” she started but he placed his fingers against her mouth and sat up too.

“Don’t start having a tantrum, _I don’t know_.” he growled. 

He took his hand away. Her lips were pursed and she was obviously displeased. “Do you promise you are not keeping anything from me?”

“It’s nice to know you trust me.” he scoffed. She glared harder and he rolled his eyes. “I _swear_ , sweetheart, I don’t know anything for sure.”

“Alright” she sighed at last. “Well… The mood is spoiled.”

It was, but their time together was so few and precious he was reluctant to admit it. Instead, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down with him. Her laughter was immediate and her feeble attempts at pushing him away were ridiculous.

“You’re crushing me!” she protested, giggling all the while.

“I’m saving the mood.” he countered, nibbling on the delicate skin under her jaw.

“Idiot.” she huffed with fondness, running her hand through his hair. That was his weakness and she was very much aware of it, he loved it when she petted his hair. It was soothing. He propped himself on his elbow to look at her, unable to suppress his smile. He studied the appealing curves of her body, the soft grin on her lips, the spark in her blue eyes… The wave of pure _love_ washed over him suddenly, startling but not unexpected, and left him slightly overwhelmed. Her eyebrows drew together in a small frown. “What is it?”

Her fingers brushed his cheek, her nails scraped the stubble… He turned his head long enough to press a lingering kiss on her wrist.

“I’m lucky.” he said simply and left it at that.

More surprisingly he found that he meant it.

He had always considered himself particularly unlucky : first he had been reaped, then he had been stupid enough to win… Everything that had come after that had felt like a nightmare, a constant lack of luck, but at that moment he realized he truly _was_ lucky. He had been given a death sentence at sixteen and yet there he was at thirty-eight, alive and kicking. His family was safe and relatively happy and it would have been enough for him to be content – it certainly was more than most victors got, Johanna Mason wasn’t the only one whose family had paid for her supposed crimes and there were some who, like Chaff, had chosen a self-imposed recluse life – but he had Effie and it made the world a brighter place to be. Mabel had left his whole life grey, as if she had taken all the colors with her when she had died, but Effie were painting them back and it was wonderful. He had certainly never planned on finding someone else but there they were and that made him the luckiest man in Panem: not only did he have his brother and his mother but he had Effie.

“It scares me sometimes.” she whispered, obviously on the same train of thoughts. “How deeply I feel for you… It makes me so strong and so weak at the same time…” She brushed a strand of hair away from his face and propped herself on her own elbow to bring their lips at the same level. “We’re so different I should hate you but I felt as if we were meant to be, like we complete each other.”

There was some truth to her word but he was always ill-at-ease with feelings, he felt the need to bring the discussion on a safer topic so he smirked and kissed her briefly. “Careful, sweetheart, next thing you know you’re going to serenade me.”

She sighed in exasperation but still pressed another kiss against his lips. “You are insufferable, Haymitch.”

“That’s why you love me.” he snorted.

The words were out of his mouth before he could think them through. If he had, he would certainly have chosen another wording.

To her credit – and probably sensing he still wasn’t ready to hear her say _that_ – Effie simply laughed before pulling him down on her to kiss him properly.

“It might be.” she whispered in his ear.

And it wasn’t as scary as he had thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm! Did you like it? Let me know!


	72. Chapter 72

The last notes of Panem’s anthem died when the last chariot passed the great doors of the Training Center. Haymitch waited until people had clapped their fill and started to move to make his escape. It was chaos, as it always was at the end of every ceremony, and he had no trouble slipping between groups of mentors and escorts. He was almost at the bottom when a hand latched on his shoulder, effectively stopping his flee.

“Where are you going?” Hayden frowned. “You’re not going off this year. We’re going to need help with the kids.”

_The kids_ were an eighteen year old male tribute named Marcus and a thirteen year old girl named Alda. Neither were promising despite the boy’s age and, worse, they were difficult. Haymitch _hated_ when the tributes were difficult – not that he could begrudge them the right to be, after all they were going to be shipped to their death, but it always made it more complicated for everyone involved. The girl was fine but the boy was angry, showing it, and very much acting out. Marcus had pushed Hayden twice when his brother had tried to tell him that _killing everyone_ was a poor strategy and he had rounded on Effie when she had told him to use cutlery to eat his dinner. She had stood her ground, of course, but she was tiny and Marcus was big – Haymitch had been ready to knock him off with the carafe of water if it had escalated too much.

“I will meet you back at the penthouse.” he argued. “I need to talk to Chaff.”

And that needed to happen _like yesterday_. He had spent three months wondering what his friend was plotting, worrying about Effie being convinced to do stupid things, and very much resenting that Cardew woman he had not even been introduced to yet.

“Getting drunk can wait.” Hayden snapped with irritation. “Marcus is a more urgent problem. We need to sit him down and…”

“He’s eighteen and he’s stupid.” Haymitch retorted. “You can handle him.”

“You know he called Effie a bitch this morning?” his brother replied. “He also threatened to slit her throat if she gives him another order.”

Haymitch pushed his instinctive anger down, his eyes searching the crowd for their escort. She was still a few rows higher, chatting with District Eight’s team and probably offering her congratulations to Cecelia for her latest child. Their eyes somehow met and she smiled, he smiled back without thinking twice about it.

Hayden rolled his eyes and stepped in his line of sight. “You know, that’s what makes it so obvious. All the deep staring and smiling like idiots…”

“The boy is scared and he doesn’t have much of a brain.” Haymitch said. “Just… Make sure he understands what’s at stake if he hurts an escort and don’t leave them alone. I’m coming back after I’ve talked to Chaff, it won’t take long.”

Hayden’s grey eyes searched his face, suddenly less annoyed and more curious. “This isn’t about a drink, is it?”

Haymitch sighed. “Look…”

“What’s going on?” his brother asked, lowering his voice.

“Nothing that has to do with you.” he growled. “So _butt_ _off_.”

“No more secrets, Haymitch.” Hayden warned. “If anything is happening that I should know about…”

“There was a cosmic joke somewhere and you and Effie were meant to be together, I swear.” he scowled. “The two of you are _a pain in the ass_.”

Instead of getting angry, Hayden smirked. “She doesn’t like things being hidden from her either, does she?”

“Fuck _off_.” Haymitch repeated. “Nothing’s happening that any of us needs to know about. I will see you in a bit.”

He was afraid his brother would try to hold him back again but Hayden let him go. Getting a hold on Chaff was harder than it ought to be but he managed to corner Mags who pointed him in the direction of the Training Center.

“What’s up with you, boy?” she asked in her now familiar whisper, a frown on her face.

“I will deal with _you_ later.” Haymitch promised. “And that boy of yours while I’m at it. If I’m right, you’re all _crazy_.”

He was more scared by the light of recognition in the old woman’s eyes than he wanted to admit. He had hoped she would deny everything.

Chaff was near his tributes’ chariot, petting one of the horses, with Seeder and their stylists. Twelve’s tributes were on his way there so he stopped next to them. The girl’s face lighted up when she saw him – probably a first in all his years of _not_ -mentoring.

“How did we do?” she asked with a hopeful face.

Haymitch glanced at the miner jumpsuits they were wearing, their cheeks caked with coal and the oversized helmets on their heads and wondered what to respond to that. He didn’t lie to tributes though, that was his rule. He left the lying and comforting to Effie and his brother. “Awful, but the good news is nobody even looked at you.”

They were all too busy fawning over the female tribute from One – the new Cashmere, someone had whispered in the crowd behind him.

“Oh.” The girl looked crushed but she forced a smile on her face – good, he thought, maybe Effie could do something with her then, give her a fighting chance with sponsors. “Well, there are always the interviews.”

“Yeah.” Haymitch found himself agreeing.

“You’re so stupid, Alda.” the boy mocked, jumping from the chariot in what, Haymitch supposed, was meant to be a show of agility. The tributes and the mentors from District Two who were nearby all erupted in chuckles but Marcus didn’t seem to realize they were laughing at him. “Who cares about the interviews? All everybody’s going to care about is if you manage to kill someone or not. _You_ ’re just a baby, you’re going to die in there.”

_Please don’t start crying, please don’t start crying_ , Haymitch chanted in his head, watching the girl like a hawk. Alda’s lips wobbled but she jutted her chin in the air.

“We’ll see about that, yeah?” she challenged.

Haymitch liked her. That was bad.

“It’s already seen.” Marcus shot back, so loud almost every head in the courtyard turned their way. “You don’t have what it takes to…”

Enough was enough.

Haymitch grabbed his arm, twisted it around and pinned him against the chariot. It was unfortunate the sides weren’t high enough for him to press his face against a solid surface because the boy needed to be brought down a peg or two.  

It was _easy_ to overpower him, so easy he had just made him a target – he regretted that because as uninvolved as he always was in the mentoring, a tiny part of him always hoped that they would not send back a coffin to Twelve that year.

“Lesson number one, you may be a big shot in the Seam but, here, you need to _think again_. There are bigger shots than you.” Haymitch whispered in his ear. “Lesson number two, never underestimate the opponent if you want to win. Lesson number three, in Twelve, we’re supportive of our fellow tributes. I hear you talk to the kid like that again, I might be tempted to break your arm.” He put _that_ little bit more pressure on his arm to make sure the boy understood he was serious. “Lesson number four and that’s the last you will hear from me so you better listen, _don’t_ make me angry. You know what makes me _really_ angry? When you threaten my escort. She’s here to help you, if you let her she might even get you sponsors so you walking around saying you’re going to slit her throat? _Not good_. She’s also my friend and I don’t like people trying to hurt my friends. You got everything?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus whined, completely panicked.

Haymitch was brutally reminded this was a boy and not his enemy. He let him go.

“Why, Abernathy… You finally grew balls!” Enobaria shouted from a few feet away.

“You want to be next?” he shouted back.

The other victor tilted her head and flashed him her fangs.

“He doesn’t mean that.” Chaff laughed, suddenly appearing at his side and patting him on the back. “He’s a little drunk, I think. That’s Haymitch for you, always joking.”

“ _Haymitch_ _Abernathy_!” Effie shrieked from the gates, followed by Hayden who was sporting a scowl.

For a second, he pondered who was the scarier when angry, Effie or his mother, and then he decided there was only one reasonable attitude faced with such fury: flight.

“I need to talk to you.” he told Chaff, grabbing his arm without leaving him a choice in the matter.

“Later, sure.” his friend replied with one of his easy grins. “We can have a drink when your girl is done cutting you to pieces.”

“ _Now_.” he hissed. He knew how he looked: stern and unforgiving and, perhaps, dangerous.

Chaff took it in stride and shrugged. “Alright.”

“You two, stay here.” he tossed at his tributes over his shoulder, sparing a last glare for Marcus. “No more acting out.”

“Yes, sir.” the boy mumbled, staring at his feet.

“ _What on Earth did you do?_ ” Effie hissed, frantically looking around to check people had moved on from the scene he had caused. “Gloria said you almost _killed_ our tribute? What in Panem, Haymitch…”

“I mentored.” he shrugged. “He learned his lesson.”

“You made him a _fucking_ prey.” Hayden snapped. His eyes darted to Chaff who politely pretended he wasn’t hearing anything that concerned another team and he scowled deeper. “We will talk about this in private.”

That probably meant a new argument with his brother – and they had been doing _so well_ …

“Look, he was bullying the girl.” Haymitch spat.

“That is _no_ excuse.” Effie retorted with such fury he was certain she would have stomped her foot if they hadn’t been in public. She was so furious, she had tears in her eyes. “This will _leak_. Everyone will be talking about it in an hour. You ruined this boy’s chances. You _ruined_ them.”

“Later, Effie.” Hayden insisted with a nod to Chaff.

“He had no chances to begin with, sweetheart.” Haymitch argued.

She shook her head. “Sometimes, I _hate_ you.”

It hurt more than he let on. Even more so when she stormed away, Hayden in her wake, to rush to their tributes. 

“So… Can I ask what kind of crazy bee stung you this morning and where we’re going?” his friend asked when Haymitch dragged him in the direction of the Center’s exit doors.

“Away.” he grumbled.

“Sure, buddy.” Chaff chuckled, less amused than he was pretending to be. “Let’s blindly follow the crazy victor who just beat up his tribute.”

“I didn’t beat him up. Cut the theatrics.” he snapped. “Everything’s your fault anyway.”

“Okay, you’re starting to scare me with the crazy.” Eleven’s victor frowned.

Haymitch refused to listen and went on dragging him down the street until he found the perfect street alley.

“You’re ever going to tell me what’s with the cloak and daggers?” Chaff scoffed. Any trace of amusement disappeared from his face when Haymitch shoved him into the deserted alley. There was nothing there except trash bins. “Yeah, you know…” his friend glared, turning around to face him. “I’m starting to get angry too, Haymitch.”

“Who’s Fulvia Cardew?” he asked. “And don’t give me the crap you fed me last time I asked.”

Chaff studied him for a few seconds and, then, his angry face was slowly replaced by the blank expression he usually took when he was bluffing at poker. “I can’t tell you, buddy.”

“You can’t tell _me_ but you can send her to _Effie_?” he scoffed. “You think I’m _asking_ you to tell me, Chaff ? I’m not _asking_. One way or another, you’re going to spill the story before I let you out of here.”

His friend’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re seriously threatening me? You think I’m scared of you?”

“You should be.” Haymitch warned.

“I’m a victor too, Haymitch.” Chaff pointed out.

“You’re a victor. I’m a _Quarter Quell_ victor.” he retorted. “And you’re lacking a hand when I have a knife in my pocket. So which one of us is the most dangerous, do you think?” He didn’t want to pull out the knife. He _really_ didn’t want to.

“You’re acting like Enobaria.” Eleven’s victor snorted. “How does it feel to play like a Career?”

“You’re not leaving me a choice.” Haymitch shouted. “You went after my family!”

“I went after _no_ _one_.” Chaff retorted.

“You sent Cardew to Effie.” he countered. “Don’t bother lying, I know it was you. Whatever anti-Capitol movement you’re involved in, it’s not really a safe one because if _Effie_ can find out you’re in it, so can Snow.”

“It’s not an anti-Capitol movement, Haymitch, it’s bigger than that.” Eleven’s victor shook his head. “And I can’t tell you anything else because you’re not trustworthy. You will do anything to protect your family and you will do anything to protect your girlfriend. We were interested in her, true, we could use a spy in some circles, but that was a test for you too and, guess what? You failed _big time_. So what are you going to do now? Report me? Report Fulvia and Livia?”

A test… They wanted to recruit _him_? 

“You’re mad.” Haymitch declared. “You know why there’s _never_ any anti-Capitol movement? ‘Cause Snow crushes them all in the bud. People involved? They get _killed_.”

“I’m telling you, it’s bigger than that.” Chaff argued. “And I just wish I could tell you everything. I wish…”

“No.” he interrupted him. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know any more than I already do. Whatever you’re doing, it’s stupid and dangerous and it’s going to get you killed.”

“Haymitch…” Eleven’s victor insisted.

“ _No._ ” he spat. “You have _no one_ , you don’t get it. I am not going to risk them all because a few Capitols found they have a guilty conscience and fancy themselves rebels.”

“So you’re loyal to the Capitol?” Chaff sneered. “After _everything_ they put you through ? After everything they put _your family_ through?” 

Haymitch wanted to throw up. “’Told you already. I don’t have loyalties, I have a leash. And right now, the guy holding the leash is keeping my family safe. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Chaff was looking at him with such a disappointed face his nausea only grew worse. Chaff was only a few years older than him but he was the closest thing to a father figure Haymitch ever had. He was like a brother to him, he was _his_ _best_ _friend_.

The worst thing was he had a feeling it would turn out exactly like this ever since Effie had mentioned him on her balcony.

“Then I have nothing else to say to you, buddy.” Chaff shrugged. “I want things to change. I won’t stop at anything for that.”

“I want things to change too but I won’t put my family or Effie at risk for nothing.” he said. “I don’t want you or any of your friends to go near them. Leave Effie alone. We’re friends, you know what she means to me. Leave her alone.”

“We’re friends.” Eleven’s mentor agreed. “Keep what you know to yourself and we have a deal.”

It was a veiled threat but Haymitch nodded all the same. He wanted to believe Chaff would never do anything to hurt him. He wanted to believe he would never do anything to hurt Chaff even if it meant saving his family.

He knew better.

There was no length he wouldn’t go to for people he loved.

“I’m sorry it ends like this.” Chaff said softly, before slipping past him and back to the main street.

Haymitch gave him a five minutes head start that he spent staring at an overflowing trash bin and then he walked back to the Training Center. Effie had been right, of course, like she always was: everyone was talking about what he had done to the boy. Perhaps they could twist _him_ into the monster and gain their tribute some sympathy points for being bullied by Twelve’s former glorious victor. He just hoped the publicity wouldn’t mean he would have to deal with _appointments_. He _really_ wasn’t in the mood to deal with the backlash it would trigger with Hayden.

When he arrived in the penthouse, they were all sitting in the living-room – the kids in normal clothes and not wearing their miner jumpsuits anymore – and they had clearly been talking. He was greeted by matching glares from his brother and their escort, a defiant but frightened stare from the boy and a delighted smile from the girl.

“I’m having a _shitty_ day as it is.” he spat. “So if anyone has something to say, it’s now.”

“ _Language_.” Effie hissed, her lips pursed and her head tilted in utter irritation. “You and I need to talk. _In_ _private_.”

He supposed there would be no point even showing up at her door that night.

“We’re trying to talk strategy, here.” Hayden cut in. “So since you’re never interested in that anyway, I suggest you go back to having a drink with your friends. Try not to create another scandal, we could use…”

“Actually…” Alda said, interrupting him. “We can be mentored separately right? Because I don’t want to team with _him.”_ She nodded at Marcus.

“It is absolutely your right to be mentored separately.” Effie explained. “And nothing forces you to team up with your fellow District tribute. Nevertheless…”

“Then I want that.” the girl said. “And I want Haymitch to mentor me. We can do that too, right? A mentor each? That’s how it works in other Districts.”

“Please, dear, wait for people to finish talking because you speak.” Effie’s smile was strained. “And, yes, they usually do it this way but we have our own organization and…”

“I will mentor the girl.” Haymitch said to everyone’s utter shock including his own.

“What?” Hayden frowned. His brother studied him and then the girl and then him again with a puzzled expression. She wasn’t victor material. Haymitch never bothered when they weren’t victor materials. He never bothered _period_.

“I will do it.” he repeated.

_There was no point_ , a little voice whispered in his mind – his sanity probably – _no point at all._ Worse, alarm bells were ringing in his head, warning him of future heartbreak.

“That’s unfair!” Marcus exclaimed. “He hates me! He’s going to give her all the sponsors and…”

“I don’t hate you, boy.” Haymitch scoffed. “I have bigger fish to hate than you.” He turned to the girl and nodded in the direction of the dining-room. “Come on, we’re going to talk business.”

Alda sauntered to the other room with a victorious smile on her lips. Obviously, she thought she had gotten the best end of the deal. Haymitch wasn’t so sure. He didn’t mentor and he was already regretting it.

But he needed to prove Chaff wrong.

He needed to prove that he was doing _something_.

He was not like the Careers, he did not _belong_ to the Capitol despite the leash around his neck.

He needed to win.

For _once_ , he needed to win.


	73. Chapter 73

Alda was a lost cause and Haymitch had a headache.  

He had asked the girl every question he could think of but the crux of the matter remained: she didn’t know how to use a weapon, she didn’t know how to survive in the wild, she didn’t know much about being witty, she had absolutely no edge to sell. Effie could perhaps shape her into something salvageable for the interviews but aside for that…

After an hour of desperate questioning, he let the girl go, left them all to their dinner and their Opening Ceremony recap and headed back down. Four’s team wasn’t exactly ecstatic to see him crashing what had clearly been a strategy reunion but he didn’t care much for what they thought about him. He ignored their escort – a bubbly young thing with purple eyes and a vibrant green tattoo on her forehead – and nodded at the balcony. Mags followed wordlessly, gesturing at Finnick to go on with their tributes. He pretended he couldn’t see the curious glances the two kids tossed them on the other side of the window. 

“What in _fucking_ hell are you doing?” he hissed.

Mags only stared. She had always loved taking mysterious airs but Haymitch had always known better than to trust the lovely little grandma persona that she was feeding the medias. Mags was fierce and a formidable opponent. She was one of the most lethal killers the Hunger Games had ever produced: she was swift and she was always clever about it.

“What do you know?” she asked in a murmur.

“I know you and Chaff are completely off your rocker.” he spat. “And I suspect you’re bringing the boy and probably Mason down the rabbit hole with you.”

“None of your business, is it?” she shrugged. “We made a choice, Haymitch. _We_ made a commitment to…”

“Spare me the party line.” he cut her off.  

“I’m disappointed in you.” Mags declared.

She didn’t need to voice it though, Haymitch was painfully familiar with what disappointment looked like. He had seen it on his mother’s and his brother’s face on far too many occasions.

“Why? ‘Cause I’m the only one still thinking straight around here?” he retorted. “Mags, whatever they promised you, you’ve got to realize it’s a lot of _crap_. No one can go against Snow. _No one_.”

“You don’t know anything, boy.” the old victor shook her head. “I’ve never pegged you for a selfish man before - or a _coward_.”

The fact she was forced to speak in murmurs somehow made the words more hurtful, it served as a reminder that the Capitol had actually harmed _her_ , that she had lost _something physical_ – just like Chaff had lost his hand – whereas Haymitch was unscathed and relatively content. There was a line between victors, he realized, and he was on the wrong side of it.

“If I’m selfish or a coward ‘cause I want to keep my family safe, then _fine_.” he scoffed. “But _you_ , what you’re doing, it’s stupid and dangerous and you’re going to take the boy and the girl down with you and I won’t let you or Chaff do that. Leave Finnick and Johanna out of it.”

“It gives them a purpose they were craving for.” Mags argued. “Maybe you need one too.”

“I have one.” Haymitch countered and left it at that. There would be no convincing Mags, he could tell, so he didn’t even try. He left without answering Finnick’s veiled questions either.

He didn’t go back to the penthouse until he was certain everyone would have turned in for the night. He spent the following hours at the bar downstairs, staring at the bottom of a glass of whiskey and wishing he could actually get drunk without feeling guilty about it. He couldn’t though. There were entirely too many people depending on him.

He was barely tipsy when he finally went back to Twelve’s floor, glad to see his timing had been right and the penthouse was completely silent. He bypassed the living-room entirely in the off-chance that his brother or their escort were waiting for him there and went straight to his room.

He didn’t bother to be discreet and he figured that was his mistake.

Her door opened just as he was walking past and he barely had time to be surprised before she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. He took it in stride, wrapping his arms around her waist and hungrily pressing his lips against hers. She responded to the kiss for exactly a second and a half before pushing against his chest.

“Stop this, I am furious with you!” she growled.

That was when he spotted Hayden sitting on the bed, his eyes politely averted. He also noticed the numerous pieces of paper scattered here and there on the covers – no schedules but back and forth exchanges in Effie’s and Hayden’s handwriting.

Hayden had always instinctively known not to speak his mind about the Capitol while _in_ the Capitol but Haymitch had never quite been able to tell if he knew about the bugs or not. Obviously, he had.

Before he could ask what it was they both wanted of him at that hour, Effie grabbed his hand and twisted Beetee’s ring to the right, in the position that would assure them a safe conversation.

“What _is_ going on?” she asked, cutting down to the chase.

“Aside for you and Hayden having secret meetings in the dead of night?” he snorted.

“What did we miss?” his brother insisted. “The girl… She’s nothing special. If I had to bet on one of them, I would bet on the boy.”

“Does it have to do with Chaff?” Effie insisted. “I told Hayden about him trying to recruit me. Does it have to do with you mentoring this year? I know you are hiding something from me. _I know.”_

Haymitch sighed and rubbed his face, tired beyond words. What to say, what not to say…

“Look, there’s something going on, something _stupid_ I want no part in.” he explained, figuring if he tried to deny everything they would simply try to get answers elsewhere. “It has nothing to do with the tributes and I don’t want either of you getting involved, so here’s what we’re going to do: you both stay the hell away from Eleven and Four. Got it?”

They stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

“ _What_ is going on?” Hayden insisted. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” he shrugged. “And you don’t want to know either. I don’t want you asking questions, I don’t want you poking around. This is dangerous business and, like I said, _stupid_. Promise me. Both of you.”

Effie and Hayden exchanged a look.

“You’re hiding things.” his brother accused. “We said no more secrets, Haymitch.”

And how well Hayden would react when he knew just what _other_ secret Haymitch had been keeping from him… He knew the truth about _special_ _appointments_ would come out one day and there was still the matter of rigging Hayden’s Games he hadn’t had any opportunity to go into.

“I don’t have secrets.” he retorted. “I’m not involved. I want no part in it. We’re staying out of it, the three of us. _Trust_ _me_.”

His brother and his escort looked at each other again.

“Did it have anything to do with you attacking Marcus?” Effie asked.

“No.” he sneered. “ _That_ had to do with him threatening to slit your throat and bullying the kid.”

“What _about_ the kid?” Hayden frowned. “Why do you want to mentor her so badly?”

He wavered. What _had_ gone through his head when he had accepted to help? There was no good answer. Maybe he had just wanted to make a change in the only way he could. It was hopeless and doomed to fail and he already knew it had been a mistake but after Chaff’s – and now Mags’ – accusations, he had felt the need to _do_ something; something that didn’t involve reckless plotting against Snow.

He was all for taking down Snow. He simply was a realist, there was not enough firepower in all the Districts together for _that_.

“I’m not hiding anything.” he said. “And, you were right, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have lost my temper in public. This is going to be a mess to turn around in our favor.”

“ _My_ mess.” Hayden pointed out. “He’s my tribute.”

His brother’s tone was almost interrogative and Haymitch carefully avoided answering that. A tribute each meant a competition, whether they wanted to or not. He wasn’t sure how they would handle that.

“That doesn’t mean Haymitch isn’t going to help. It is _his_ fault and he should make amends.” Effie cut in firmly. “I scheduled you for an interview in a talk show tomorrow morning. Do it in whatever way you please but you _will_ turn this into a positive thing for Marcus.”

“Fine.” he sighed. Fair was fair. It was his fault the boy would start the Games as an easy target. “He should make a stand at Training tomorrow.”

“Already told him that.” Hayden countered.

“Then it’s all good.” he said. “I’m going to bed now.”

He turned the ring back into its proper inoffensive setting and hesitated. He usually slept in Effie’s room. It had been years since he had spent a full night alone in his bed when he was in the Capitol. Yet her folded arms and the fact she wasn’t meeting his eyes weren’t engaging, neither was the fact Hayden didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. It was obvious he wasn’t welcomed.

“Night.” he mumbled, feeling strangely ashamed of himself.

It was one thing when Effie was mad at him and another when Hayden was sulking, but when they were _both_ furious with him about the _same_ thing, it probably meant he had really fucked up somewhere.

He didn’t even try to resist the urge for a last drink before going to his room.

°O°O°O°

The door closed on Haymitch and they remained silent for a moment.

“I need some fresh air.” Effie said. “What about you? Do you fancy a walk to the roof?”

The question was innocent enough but Hayden seemed to grasp her purpose because he gave her a brief nod and led the way. The wind was biting cold outside and she folded her arms over her chest to keep warm. Hayden shed his jacket and handed it to her without comment.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Do you believe him?”

She took her time putting his jacket on to delay answering that. Did she believe him? She thought back to his initial reaction when she had first mentioned Fulvia Cardew and Chaff… She had read fear in his eyes, and as for his earlier behavior… Haymitch rarely did anything rash. He was cunning and tended to think before he acted. Assaulting a tribute in a crowded courtyard – regardless of idle threats made on her person – seemed _rash_. The way he had dragged Chaff after him had seemed suspicious to her. And now he was agreeing to mentor when he had specifically told her time and time again he wouldn’t get involved because none of those children were potential victors and it would only add a strain on his and Hayden’s relationship. Alda was a nice girl although a little difficult but she was in no way victor material and thus not worth jeopardizing his newfound bond with his brother.

Something was definitely off.

“I don’t think he is lying.” she offered at last.

However, Haymitch was awfully good at _not telling the truth_ in a way that didn’t always involve direct lies.

“So you trust him?” Hayden insisted. “’Cause I don’t know anymore. He hid too many things from me.” 

“I trust him.” she replied without any second hesitation. “I… I wouldn’t want to presume or make any sort of accusations because that could have awful consequences for the people in question but I think Chaff is involved in something dangerous.” And Livia too probably. “Haymitch would never do anything that would put _us_ in danger. I think we can believe him when he says he doesn’t want to know.”

Hayden stared at her and then nodded his agreement. He walked closer to the edge of the roof and kicked a pebble. It bounced right back.

“Do _we_ want to know?” he asked so softly and slowly she had troubles hearing him at all.

Did they? She remembered just how terrified she had been when Fulvia Cardew had been asking all those questions about her true feelings for the Capitol. She remembered just how sure she had been that Peacekeepers were going to appear out of nowhere to take her away. She had been scared out of her wits.

Having rebellious thoughts was one thing. Acting on them…

“No.” she stated firmly. “We _don’t_. It is not just about us, Hayden. Or what we might be wishing. We have families to think about. You owe it to your brother to think about him and your mother. Don’t do _anything_ that could put them at risk, I beg you.”

He thought about that for a few seconds and then sighed.

“You’re right.” he granted. “I don’t like it but you’re right.” He flashed her a grin that was obviously forced and grabbed her hand. “He’s lucky to have you, you know. I should have snatched you first.”

“Hayden…” she frowned, not sure she was following and not certain she wanted to.

“No, I’m not…” He shrugged and let out a little laugh. “It’s not like that. You’re like a sister. I’m just saying… I wish I had someone like he has you.”

She lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “A little bird told me you had a girlfriend in Twelve.”

He rolled his eyes. “So my big brother is spreading gossips…”

“Only to me.” she grinned. “I have to admit I am miffed not to have heard of it from the source…”

He squeezed her hand once and then ran in it in his hair nervously. “It’s complicated. And it’s not really a thing. She’s got her kids to think about and… It’s not really a _thing_ , you know.”  

“It sounds like _a thing_ to me when I hear you talk about her, Hayden.” she pointed out.

“I will take what I can get.” he shrugged, before checking his watch. “Come on, let’s go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be hell.”

“Another year of helpless sponsors chasing.” she sighed, heading back inside.

He followed her, burying his hands deep in his pockets. “And since we’re mentoring separately, you will have twice the work.”

“Please, don’t remind me.” she cringed.

They said their goodnights at her door. The penthouse was completely silent and she suppressed the urge to go check on their tributes – she did that sometimes, just peek in the children’s room to make sure they were alright, it never helped them escape the arena.

She got ready for bed with the sick feeling of going through the motion. Her mind was miles away, thinking back to what she had told Hayden and wondering if she was right to follow Haymitch’s lead. She could guess what it was all about. Livia hadn’t always well hidden her dissenting feelings, she couldn’t imagine victors felt differently about the Games than she and Twelve’s mentors did – except perhaps the Careers. Yes, she could guess.

And the need to do something was strong.

Although weaker than her deep instinct of self-preservation.

She placed her hairbrush down on the dressing table and stared at the bed. The whole room felt empty and cold.

She didn’t really think about it before wrapping a dressing-gown around her body and wandering down the hall to Haymitch’s room. He was already in bed, lying on his stomach, bare-chested as usual at night, sleeping or snoozing. She watched him for a few seconds and then climbed into bed, brushing a hand along his spine to let him know she was there. She didn’t fancy getting punched because he was startled.

“’Didn’t think you’d come.” he mumbled.

“I’m still furious.” she warned him, settling against him with her cheek on his shoulder blade. She didn’t care if she was crushing him, she wrapped an arm around his waist. “I sleep alone for most of the year. I will keep my kicking you out of bed card for real unforgivable offenses.”

“Deal.” he snorted and then turned around. They shifted until they were in their favorite sleeping position: one of his arms tightly wrapped around her waist as he spooned her, his other hand playing with her hair and one of his legs trapped between her thighs.

“Do you think Alda has a chance?” she whispered, wondering if there was something she had missed.

For a long moment there was no answer, then a lingering kiss pressed against her neck. “No.”

“Then why…” she breathed out.

“I don’t know.” he cut her off.

And that was all she managed to get out of him.

Her stomach churned with a burning feeling of dread.

Getting involved only led to heartbreak – _she_ would know – and she wasn’t certain he would be able to bear it.

Actually, she was certain he wouldn’t be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think the same thing Effie does? Do you think Haymitch will hold it together? Let me know!


	74. Chapter 74

_“I’m not promising I will get you out of there, girl. I will try but I don’t lie to tributes, I’m not making any promise.”_

Effie wasn’t supposed to hear that but she had heard it anyway and the words had remained branded in her brain ever since. Haymitch had whispered them to Alda right before the tributes had gone to bed after the interviews. No _stay away from the Cornucopia_ , no _find a water point and shelter for the night_ , no _stay alive_ – even though that was the parting advices he usually gave the most promising tributes. Out of anything Haymitch could have told the girl, he chose to make his last words to her an apology in advance for failing her and that terrified Effie more than anything.

The days of training had been exhausting for everyone involved. Haymitch had jumped in the role of mentor with an unchecked energy that felt almost desperate and more than once she had looked at Hayden, silently begging him to _do_ or _say_ something because they were probably going to lose and Haymitch would be crushed. Whatever she tried to say, she wasn’t getting through to him. He kept repeating he knew they had no chance but still went on acting like they did.

He had trained that girl harder than she and Hayden had ever trained any tributes. Hayden had risen up his level a notch too, only to keep up, but Marcus wouldn’t win. Alda wouldn’t either.

As a consequence, as she stood next to Hayden in the Games Headquarters, waiting for the launch, she was more nervous than ever. Her hands were clammy, her mouth parched and she would have reached for one of the glasses the waiters were handing around if she hadn’t been so sure her hands would shake and she would spill it all over herself.

She couldn’t decide what would be better: for the girl to have a quick death at the start of the Games or for her to escape and live a short while longer? Haymitch would be crushed either way.

“He’s going to stay in the penthouse, Effie, you can stop looking for him.” Hayden whispered. “He never comes to launches.”

“I know.” she replied softly.

He grabbed her hand and she hung on for dear life.

_“Let the Seventy-third Hunger Games begin!”_ said Caesar with so much cheer she wanted to strangle him.

The arena was a maze.

Each tribute was alone in a narrow corridor that led to the Cornucopia at one end and deeper into the maze at the other. It would disadvantage tributes relying on brute strength and would be easier for cunning contestants. Already, some tributes were figuring it out and weighing their chances between dashing for the Cornucopia and the stash of food and running away. There were no weapons available, only perishable goods and as the camera passed on Marcus’ face, she could see he would go for it, underestimating how dangerous a Career could be with only their bare hands.

“Does it change the odds?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Hayden’s lips were pinched. “Hard to say. The whole place will be booby-trapped and you can bet they’re going to go crazy with the Mutts…”

The gong rang before she could answer. Given the general layout of the arena, all in corridors, for a second, everyone was confused and it was hard to tell who had run for the Cornucopia and who had stayed clear of it.

It took five minutes and her fingers crushing Hayden’s to the point he winced before Twelve’s victor finally breathed out a sigh of relief.

“We’re game.” he said and that was all the signal they needed to start rounding up on sponsors and making their pleas and well-rehearsed speeches. Both of their tributes had fled the Cornucopia.

Haymitch joined in after half an hour, playing the charmer card with all he had. He was doing well by himself so Effie stuck with Hayden who was always less popular than his brother.

They spent hours flirting, smiling, trying to seduce sponsors into helping Twelve but at the end of the day, when the three of them regrouped in the penthouse, only Haymitch had two sponsoring offers, so meager they wouldn’t be enough to buy anything.

“We will do better at the party.” she declared, careful to sound optimistic and cheerful.

The desperate energy that had driven Haymitch since the Opening Ceremony seemed to morph into cold determination.

The car drive to the hotel where the party was taking place was spent in silence. Even her attempts at chit chat were drown by the weight of Haymitch’s moping.

“Haymitch…” Hayden tried once they were in the hotel hall. There was no talking to Haymitch, though. He strode away without glancing back.

“Let it go.” Effie advised.

The party was in full swing and she immediately scanned the crowd for potential sponsors – and Haymitch. She found the sponsors easily enough; as for Haymitch, he was at the bar, chatting up a sixty year old former actress and laughing way too hard at her jokes. She forced herself to look away.

Of course, it hadn’t escaped Hayden’s notice either. “Effie…”

“Let it go.” she repeated firmly, like an order. She forced a smile on her lips and started the tedious process of sucking up to rich people in hope they would consent to part with some of their money. She lost herself in the familiar task, laughing too loud and talking too much to compensate for Hayden’s uneasiness.

Hayden’s sulk only grew when he spotted Haymitch dancing with the old woman in ways old women weren’t supposed to dance.

She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

It morphed into a burn when she saw them leaving the party together. Fortunately for Haymitch, Hayden didn’t notice, too busy fending off the advances of a drunk Capitol girl who couldn’t be more than twenty. _Effie_ did notice but she kept silent.

And when they finally called it a night and came back to the penthouse empty-handed, she pretended nothing was amiss even though Haymitch wasn’t back yet.

Usually, they would have taken turn sleeping for a few hours but that year was different and so both she and Hayden settled on the couch to watch the live feed.

They had front row seats when Mutts that looked like bats swooped down on Alda and sucked her body dry of blood.

“ _Fuck.”_ Hayden sighed slowly, too familiar with the horrors of the Games to be truly shocked by it all. He rubbed a hand over his face and let out another sigh. “This is going to be bad, Effie. He hasn’t gotten involved since…”

The chime of the elevator cut his sentence off and Effie closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see what would happen next.

“I’ve got a deal.” Haymitch announced, barging in the living-room, waving a paper. “It’s already signed and everything. Sweetheart, you need to go down and…”

His voice trailed off when Hayden stood up slowly to face him. His brother didn’t need to say anything for him to understand. His face closed off and he tossed the papers at her.

“Use it for the boy.” he spat.

“Haymitch…” she winced but he was already gone – although not without grabbing a bottle from the liquor cart. The slamming of his door boomed in the otherwise silent penthouse.

She tried to knock, she tried to coax an answer out of him through the wooden panel but nothing. At long last, Hayden convinced her to give Haymitch some space and they focused on their only remaining tribute left.

Those who had grabbed nothing at the Cornucopia were slowly falling prey to hunger and thirst so they sent a bottle of water. By the time the silver parachute arrived in the maze, Two’s tributes had ganged up on Marcus and had killed him.

It was barely noon.

She filled up the paperwork mechanically while Hayden nursed a drink, slumped on a chair. They both kept glancing at the door but Haymitch never appeared. He hadn’t stepped out of his room since Alda died but they knew he was alive because they would occasionally hear things being thrown. She was ready to bet his room would be upside down by the time he finally decided to face the world.

“Do you want me to book you a train?” she asked once she was done with the last form.

Hayden hesitated for a few seconds and then he shrugged. “I will stick around for a few days. I think… I better do the interviews this year. I know you think Haymitch is better at it but…”

“I agree.” she cut in readily. “ _Thank_ _you_.”

Her relief was real. She had been dreading having to drag Haymitch down to interviews. She wasn’t sure he would have kept the necessary act.

“We will get through this.” Hayden promised. “I don’t know what’s up with Haymitch but he will snap out of it eventually.”

She didn’t know what was up with Haymitch either and that was the scary part. Suddenly deciding to mentor a girl who had no chance to begin with wasn’t like him. The whole business with Chaff – whatever it was – had rattled him, she knew that was the problem. She just _knew_. She had no way to confirm or infirm it though and no desire to approach Eleven’s victor so she was left with no option to make things right.

It took two days for Haymitch to come out of hiding.

It was mid-morning but she was indulging in a lie-in because she had been working non-stop, shouldering most of the interviews to spare Hayden the chore. She woke up to Haymitch sneaking into her bed, wearing nothing but sweatpants. His eyes were bloodshot but she couldn’t tell if it was from too much alcohol, exhaustion or if he had been crying. He looked like death warmed over.

“What have you done to yourself?” she frowned, brushing her fingers against his cheek. Her nails caught in the beard he had obviously not shaved in days.

He escaped her hand and didn’t meet her eyes. It occurred to her it was odd that he hadn’t tried to embrace her yet.

Each of his word was reluctant and he stared at the sheets instead of looking at her. “Sweetheart… The sponsoring… I…”

She thought it would be a mercy to put him out of his misery. “I know.”

His eyes darted up and locked with hers, astonished and wary all at once.

“It’s alright. I understand.” she offered. “I am not angry.”

She had been angry at first, angry and hurt and everything in between. It had passed quickly when compared to the tiniest possibility of making a difference and saving one of the children.

“I cheated on you.” he clarified.

He didn’t need to. Even with his help, even with his wealthiest fans, Twelve never secured as much money as he had brought back to the penthouse. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how he had done it. It was lucky Hayden had been too wrapped up in everything else to question the origin of the money – or maybe it was lucky he was so sure his brother could do anything he set his mind to.

“No, you didn’t.” she countered. She didn’t consider that cheating. He had done it to help the girl and she highly doubted he had enjoyed it.

“She wasn’t an appointment.” he insisted. “We have a deal about that and…”

“Haymitch, it’s alright.” she interrupted more sternly.

His grey eyes searched hers, looking for a trick, for the fury he was expecting to see but when he found nothing except understanding and acceptance, he breathed out slowly and lied down next to her, settling his head on the pillow over her shoulder, burying his face in her hair. He held her tentatively and she embraced back firmly, without the smallest touch of hesitation.

“I slept with her for money.” he murmured.

His voice was laced with a painful sort of shame and she closed her eyes and willed the lump in her throat to go away. She drew him closer and ran her fingers through his hair in the way he found soothing.

“I love you.” she whispered. She had implied it enough over the last few years but she had never said the words, certain he would cower away from them. If there ever was a time to say them though, she sensed it was now.

“Why?” he sneered, pressing his face against her shoulder in a fashion that could only be painful to him. “I slept with her for money. Nobody forced me. I dropped my pants for money. They didn’t force me. I did it. _Me._ ”

She bit her bottom lip, grateful he couldn’t see her face or the tears in her eyes and kept on petting his hair.

“You wanted to save Alda very badly.” she pointed out. “You thought it was a viable option.”

“I whored myself out.” he argued. _“I_ sold myself. I cheated on you and for what? I knew she wouldn’t make it. I _fucking_ knew.”

“You wanted to believe.” she murmured. “It’s human.”

“I wanted to prove them wrong.” he scoffed. “I wanted to prove I wasn’t like the Careers, but I did just what they always do. I wanted to prove I’m not selfish or a coward but I am, Effie, I am.”

“Haymitch.” she interrupted him. “I do not know who said what but they are _idiots_.” She nudged him away softly until he lifted his head. He wouldn’t look at her but she cupped his face in her hands and _forced_ him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” he offered with a shrug, as if it was a given.

“You are not selfish, you are not a coward and you are not a whore.” she stated plainly. He opened his mouth to argue but she didn’t give him time to do it. “You are a man who makes the best of an awful situation. You are a man who would go to hell and back for his family and that deserves respect, that is neither selfish nor cowardly. You tried to help that girl with everything you had including your body, that is not selfish nor cowardly, and I very much doubt a Career would do what you did if they weren’t one hundred percent convinced they had every chance to win.” She forced a smile on her lips and planted a kiss on his mouth. “I love _you_ and, as you know, I have _very_ high standards in _everything_.”

He watched her for a very long time and then settled back down next to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly enough to hurt. She let him. He needed her and she would give him everything she had to give.

“I want it to be enough.” Haymitch finally confessed. “You, Hayden and Mama. I want it to be enough but I’m not sure how long I can take it, sweetheart. I’m scared of myself.”

She closed her eyes and pressed a kiss against his neck, offering the only comfort she could give. If he was scared, then she was terrified – not _of_ him but _for_ him. “I love you.”

They all had their demons, she mused. She, Haymitch, Hayden shared a certain numbers of ghosts but while hers and Hayden’s were disturbing and a source of anxiety, Haymitch’s were vicious. And he had a self-destructive tendency that worried her sick when he was exiled in Twelve and she was stuck in the Capitol.

She didn’t know how to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE WORDS ARE OUT! what did you think? Let me know!


	75. Chapter 75

“Your mother’s getting tired again.” Hazelle hummed distractedly from inside the kitchen.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Hayden sighed.

Then there was nothing but the noise of scissors cutting hair and Haymitch took a swing from his bottle. He was sitting outside, on the back porch’s steps, and the kitchen door had been left slightly ajar, making it impossible for him not to hear what was happening inside: Hazelle was cutting Hayden’s hair, their mother was upstairs taking a nap and the boys, minus Gale, were running around, followed by their little sister on her small legs. Sometimes Hazelle or Hayden called out for them to slow down before they hurt themselves.

It was all very domestic.

Haymitch took another mouthful of liquor, knowing it was time to stop before he crossed the line from tipsy to wasted but couldn’t find the will to put the bottle down. It was getting harder and harder by the day. 

He couldn’t forget Alda who he had failed to save.

Mags’ words kept ringing in his ears : _I’ve never pegged you for a selfish man before or a coward_.

Chaff’s were worse: _How does it feel to play like a Career?_

He couldn’t forget the fact that he had sunk so low as to willingly sell himself out of nothing but a desperate need for money. There were other ways – blackmail, threats, begging – but he had gone straight for the familiar easy method. What did it say about him?

Nothing good probably. That Chaff was right and he was too much of a Career now – or too much of a whore – to see the difference.

He had been offered an opportunity to change things, to _do_ something and he had passed on it out of fear. He missed Chaff, he wanted to call him, to make amends, but he knew there was no use. As much as he wished things were different, there was no way he could put his family at risk for chimeras.

“Here you go!” Hazelle exclaimed with too much cheer. There _was_ too much cheer in the house lately – laughter, children shouting, jokes – it felt out of place in the Victors’ Village. “Haymitch, stop brooding on the back porch and come here, it’s your turn.”

It took him a few seconds to realize she was talking to him. A few seconds he could have used to hide the bottle from view but he was too slow and the door opened completely before he could do anything about it. Hazelle’s eyes fell on it and she pursed her lips in displeasure and obvious annoyance that he would drink when her kids were around to see it. A part of him wanted to be ashamed, another simply didn’t care. That was the part that was scaring him the most, the one that was starting to not care about a lot of things.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” she commanded with all the authority of a mother of three boys and a boisterous little girl.

Slowly, he got up and stepped in the kitchen – he could have protested but it wasn’t worth a fight – and placed the bottle of bad wine on the counter on his way to the chair. He tossed a defiant glance at his brother, challenging him to _comment_ but Hayden’s face remained blank, his arms crossed over his chest. If anything he looked _worried_.

Haymitch dropped on the chair, wishing the kids would stop laughing and shouting so loud in the next room. He was sporting a headache.

“I don’t need a _fucking_ haircut.” he grumbled.

“Yes, you do and a shave too.” Hazelle countered. “A shower wouldn’t hurt either, you smell like Ripper’s moonshine shed.”

He reeked, that much was true. He hadn’t bothered using the shower in a few days, it seemed like too much effort somehow. His mother has told him in no uncertain terms that morning that a dead fish would smell less sour.

“Your escort won’t like it.” Hazelle insisted when he failed to react.

Haymitch bristled at that, turning his head to study her and then glaring immediately at Hayden. “What have you been telling around?”

“Nothing.” Hayden replied defensively, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. Luckily for him, Posy appeared right then and Haymitch snapped his mouth shut. _Unc’e Hayden_ didn’t make the child ask twice when she requested he went back to the living-room to play with her because Vick and Rory wouldn’t.

It was probably a proof that he wasn’t well that he didn’t even find it in him to mock his brother for playing with dolls.

“I figured it out by myself, you know.” Hazelle declared once they were gone. She forced him to look straight ahead again and started working a comb through his tangled hair. “The way you look at her, the way you talk about her…” Hazelle never did _neutral_ so her voice was openly disapproving. “I know you had all those flings with Capitols before – and that was all kinds of wrong, let me tell you – but this one… It’s been going on for a while, yes? You’re serious with her?”

He offered no answer which was, he supposed, an answer in itself.

“Do you ever stop to think about what Mabel would feel?” she asked and that was too much.

He bolted from the chair, barely noticing when it clattered to the ground, barely noticing that Hayden was right there in a flash, a worried frown on his face.

“I don’t need to take your _shit_.” he spat, glaring at his friend. “You don’t know anything about me and you clearly know _shit_ about Effie.”

“I know no one forced her at gunpoint to become an escort.” Hazelle shrugged. “I know she picks up kids so they can die on TV. One day it could be _my_ kids. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“ _Shut_ _up_.” Haymitch growled in warning.

“Stop it.” Hayden said calmly.

He turned to his brother, ready to tear him a new one but Hayden wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at Hazelle and Haymitch could tell, in that second, that it was a recurrent topic and one they didn’t agree upon.

“I’m just saying.” Hazelle insisted. “Mabel was my best friend and…”

“And she’s _dead_.” Haymitch finished for her. “And it’s my fault. And I’m spitting on her grave by being with Effie.”

“Nobody said that.” his brother protested.

“ _You_ didn’t maybe.” he chuckled bitterly. “But the rest of them are all thinking it.”

He slammed the door on his way out of the kitchen and walked away. He didn’t know where he was going or when he would stop. He _didn’t_ want to stop. He wanted to walk and walk and walk until he disappeared. Perhaps he would walk all the way to Thirteen’s ruins where the radiations would do him in. Perhaps he would walk all the way to the Capitol only to collapse at Effie’s door and he would remain in her apartment where the outside world didn’t matter.

Chaff, Mags, Johanna, even Seeder maybe… They were all thinking along the same line as Hazelle. Loving Effie was a betrayal. Refusing to join their little rebellious band was a betrayal. He was on the wrong side of the fence. He was a traitor not only to the Districts but to the memory of his dead girl.

He was a traitor who was sleeping with the enemy.

°O°O°O°

The sense of doom Effie had been feeling since the seventy-third Hunger Games hadn’t weakened in the last few months. She had been dreading Victory Tour that year, had been dreading to see for  herself the state Haymitch was in.

There had been phone calls in the dead of night of course but Haymitch was never talkative on the phone and whatever he was brooding about, he wasn’t sharing. Her phone calls with Hayden were more alarming. The reports he had made on his brother weren’t good.

_He’s pulling away from us_ , Hayden had said on more than one occasion.

She shared the feeling.

Haymitch had arrived in the Capitol for the duration of the Tour on a cold morning. They had immediately gone to the Training Center for the unavoidable photo op and welcoming cocktail. He had kissed her in the car, he had smiled and waved at the medias and his fans, he had made small talk with other victors… But Effie could tell his head wasn’t in the game and neither was his heart.

She had felt a brief respite when Beetee Latier had arrived a few weeks earlier because after they had a few conversations she wasn’t privy too, Haymitch had seemed lighter. She had asked what it was about but he wouldn’t explain, he had simply stated that everyone wasn’t stupid and it was good to know – whatever that meant. He wasn’t telling her much anyway.

They didn’t even bother dragging the mattress on the balcony anymore.

They didn’t really need to, she mused as he bit on her shoulder. His thrusts were becoming frantic but pleasure was evading her. It had been evading her ever since the start of the Tour and he didn’t seem to notice. 

Sex was weird. 

She had the feeling he was using her in the very same way he was using alcohol: as a desperate distraction against his dark thoughts. He was using her because she was _there_ but he didn’t truly _see_ her anymore. She could have been a plastic doll for all the care he showed her. The act was performed mechanically, his mind was elsewhere.

He came with a grunt, rocked his hips a few more times and then rolled away from her, out of breath, without noticing she had been simply  lying there for almost ten minutes, waiting for him to finish.

The silence was heavy.

She wondered if that was how it started for most couples. The slow slippery slope that brought the most in love couple to their knees and an inevitable break-up.

“I’m going to go get a drink.” he said, pushing himself off the bed and to his feet. “You want something?”

“You drink too much.” she commented.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the boxers he had discarded earlier and slipping them on. “I’m handling it. Don’t start nagging at me for that. I’m _in control_.”

“Are you?” she scowled.

She was tired of exchanging the same lines every day, their life now resembled a bad play. She got out of bed and wrapped her pink silk dressing gown around herself before stepping out on the balcony. There was a small breeze and the night air was cold, too cold to stand outside in nothing but a silky gown. Still, she didn’t feel like going back inside. It was oppressive.

She almost wished he would leave to spend the night at the penthouse.

“Why are you being a bitch?” he scorned, leaning against the glass door.

“Perhaps I am frustrated.” she suggested in a hiss.

“Yeah? With what?” he taunted. “You couldn’t find the latest wig in fashion?”

It made her angrier than she wanted to be. She turned around and leaned her back against the stone railing, glaring at him.

“Is that how you think of me, Haymitch?” she asked. “Because I am not the stupid little girl who first came to Twelve dreaming of being the next famous escort anymore and if you can’t see that, if you still think of me like that…”

Something akin to guilt flashed on his face and he shook his head. “You know I don’t, sweetheart.”

It was funny how she used to hate the pet names but now she realized she had almost missed it. He hadn’t called her _sweetheart_ or _princess_ in a while.

“ _Talk_ to me.” she begged, her anger deflating all at once. She was too worried to cling to it for long. “If you are still thinking about Alda…”

“Don’t.” he snapped. He closed his shaking hand into a fist. “ _Don’t_.”

She wanted to respect his wishes, she wanted to give him the space he was requesting but she _had_ given him space already, _Hayden_ had given him space, and it had only resulted in him falling more and more often at the bottom of a bottle.

“Does it have anything to do with what you did to get her sponsors?” she insisted.

She almost expected him to run away but a pained look darkened his eyes instead.

“You said you didn’t care. You said you forgave me. You can’t take it back, Effie. You _can’t_.” he whispered with so much distress that she walked closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. He clung to her immediately, burying his face in her neck. “Don’t take it back. Please, sweetheart…”

“I am not taking it back.” she swore, running her fingers in his hair. “But, Haymitch, have you _looked_ at yourself in a mirror? You are not well.”

“I know I’m drinking a little more than usual but…” he argued.

“It’s not _a little more_.” she cut him off. “Hayden says you drink three bottles a week. That’s _a lot_ , Haymitch. That’s _too much_. You are _not_ in control anymore. You are not _handling_ it.”

“I’m doing my best.” he sighed. “It could be three bottles _a day_. Effie, I’m really doing my best.”

“I know.” She pressed a kiss to his neck. “But this won’t get any easier until you _talk_ about it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

There was a long silence. Then he propped his chin on her shoulder.

“Too many things.” he offered at last. “Tell me you… You know. Tell me.”

It took her a few seconds to realize what he meant, what he wanted. And if he wanted to hear _that_ then it was bad – very, _very_ bad.

“I love you.” she said anyway.

“Despite everything?” he insisted.

“ _Because_ of everything.” she chided him. “I love you.”

For the first time since he had arrived in the Capitol for the Tour, he kissed her as if he truly meant it. His hand tangled in her hair and angled her head so he could deepen the kiss. It went from sweet to messy awfully fast. The fingers that weren’t buried in her curls toyed with the belt of her gown.

“I think I could…” he hesitated between two kisses. “If you’re game, we could have another go.”

He didn’t usually bother asking for permission but she surmised he thought she was still angry about earlier – which was good because…

“It depends.” she answered, nipping at his bottom lip. “Are you going to let me play or am I expected to lie there and take it like the last few nights?”

“I didn’t…” he stuttered in offense, two blotches of red darkening his cheeks.

“Oh, yes, you did.” she hissed, undoing the knot of her belt and letting the gown slip from her shoulders, pushing him back inside. “Think carefully about it, Haymitch. When was the last time you made sure I was having fun?”

At her push, he sat on the bed, opening and closing his mouth in search of an argument that wasn’t forthcoming.

“Well, you should have _said_ something.” he grumbled, placing his hands behind her thighs and pulling her to him.

“I didn’t know I needed to.” she scoffed, straddling him.

The next kiss wasn’t playful at all. It was commanding and almost aggressive. She didn’t like being frustrated, she didn’t like it _at all_. She had tolerated it for his sake, but _no_ _more_. 

To his credit, he made _very_ sure she was satisfied this time.

And afterwards, when she was sprawled on his chest, feeling like a rag doll, knowing nothing was resolved but willing to put it back to the following day, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“I can’t go on like that, sweetheart.” he whispered. “Something’s gotta give…”

She didn’t truly know what he meant by that.

The answer came anyway on the day of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games’ Reaping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caaaanon is coming! haha! Did you like this chapter? Are you ready for Katniss and Peeta? Let me know!


	76. Chapter 76

“Where _is_ he ?” Effie hissed, glaring at both Hayden and Mayor Undersee. “We can’t start if one of our victors is missing. This is going to be a _hassle_. We _cannot_ be late.”

“I don’t know!” Hayden replied defensively. “He had a fight with Mama and he left. You know how he is… I don’t know where he went.”

“Was he drunk?” she asked. She needed to.

Hayden winced. “Not when he left. He was trying. I don’t think he had touched a drink in weeks but the fight was bad.”

The mayor politely looked at his shoes, unwilling to give the impression he was spying on family matters. Effie didn’t have that luxury. The Reaping was about to start, there was a schedule to stick to and she didn’t have time to hunt around the District for an elusive victor.

“What happened?” she sighed.

Of _all days_ , Iris _had_ to choose _this one_ to pick a fight…

“Not sure.” Hayden shrugged. “He was telling her to take it easy ‘cause she’s been tired a lot lately and she got frustrated I guess… We’re always trying to get her to sit or lie down, it makes her feel old or a burden, I don’t know. Before I knew what was happening, they were shouting about Haymitch’s behavior in the Capitol, his drinking and whatnot.”

She resisted the urge to rub at her forehead.

“ _Find_ _him_.” That particular order was directed at the Mayor who simply checked his watch and shrugged. 

“We’re about to go live, Miss Trinket, we can’t wait for Haymitch to show up…” Undersee argued. “The Peacekeepers will find him and deliver him safely to the train.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance, trying to hide her worry behind her – genuine – irritation. She would kill Haymitch as soon as she would find him.

Before long, someone signaled them it was time and Mayor Undersee started the familiar yearly speech. She didn’t listen to one single word, her eyes flickering between the empty chair, between Hayden and her, and the crowd.

As if on cue, right at the moment the mayor was listing Twelve’s victors, Hayden cursed under his breath and stood up. Effie imitated him by reflex before she caught glance of what had alarmed him. The audience’s applause was mild when Haymitch staggered on stage, making a beeline for her.

“Sweetheart…” he slurred with a sincere smile, hopefully too low for the cameras to pick it up.

There was no way, however, that the cameras didn’t pick up what happened next, for Haymitch tried to hug her. In plain sight. On national TV. And not only did he wrap his arms around her despite her obvious attempts at pushing him away, he groped her too. She slapped _that_ hand away but not without a frightful look for the closest camera. In the end, Hayden managed to tear him off her while Undersee, clearly embarrassed, called her center stage.

“Happy Hunger Games!” she declared, bright and bubbly as ever even though all she wanted to do was crawl in the closest hole. Her wig felt odd and she just knew it wasn’t straight on her head anymore. She hoped nobody could see her real hair because her mother was certainly watching and she would be lectured to no end if she realized Effie hadn’t bothered dying her hair in years. “And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!”

Her cheerfulness was answered by deadly silence and she hurried in putting her hand in the huge glass bowl, barely remembering to keep a smile on her face. “Ladies first!”

She was going to kill Haymitch, she promised herself she would. First, she would make sure there would be _no_ alcohol on the train or in the penthouse. And _then_ she would make his life a _living hell_. He would _work_ this year, she mused. He would do interviews and go to mandatory events and he would exhaust himself with them to convince sponsors. All the things she and Hayden did every year even though they didn’t enjoy it.

“Primrose Everdeen!” she called, still thinking of the best ways to get her revenge. A sex strike was a given, naturally. For a few days at least. It had been _months_ for her too after all.

Then the unhappy whispers started in the Square and she understood why when she saw the child staggering towards the stage. She was young. Very pretty, with bright blue eyes and blond hair neatly braided down her back – they could have worked with that, Effie thought, except the child was so very young. No more than twelve. And her heart broke here and there because she didn’t think she could handle another dead twelve years old. Even then, as the child advanced towards the stage on shaky legs, all she wanted to do was scoop her up and hide her from the cameras that would soon consume her.

“Prim!” came the first cry and then, as the crowd of children parted, another. “Prim!”

Bemused, Effie watched as a teenager rushed forward, pushed the child behind her and gasped words that chilled her to the bone.

“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”

Effie froze.

Behind her, she could hear frantic murmurs: Hayden’s deep voice and Haymitch’s slurred answer. She forced herself not to glance back because she didn’t know what to do. They weren’t in a Career District, nobody ever volunteered in Twelve.

“Lovely!” she commented, trying to get some sense of control, trying to get the crowd who was now whispering urgently back in line. She sputtered something about rules but Mayor Undersee ordered the girl forward, sterner than she ever saw him.

The teenager tried to walk to the stage but Primrose grabbed her and it was some time, and only thanks to the help of another boy who grabbed the child and brought her back to her mother, before the girl finally joined her. 

Effie was completely lost but not confused enough not to see what was happening right in front of her eyes: Primrose was still crying, screaming for her sister, people were still whispering. “Well, _bravo_! That’s the spirit of the Games! What’s your name?”

“Katniss Everdeen.” the girl said, her bright grey eyes darting all around like a trapped animal.

The crowd wasn’t calming down and the girl looked far too defiant next to her despite the panicked spark in her eyes. She could see it on the huge screens. Katniss was keeping her chin high, she didn’t look like a tribute from Twelve was supposed to look, she was obviously well-loved in her District… This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

She tried to salvage the situation by asking for a round of applause.

Silence.

Oh, how Effie hated silence.

A chill went down her spine and she swallowed hard.

The shiver was nothing compared to what she felt when one person placed three fingers against their lips and held them out. Then there were two people, and then three and soon, the entire District was making the odd gesture.

She didn’t know what it meant.

Except that it was defiant.

Defiant wasn’t good.

“Do something.” Haymitch’s drunken slur commanded behind her, probably to his brother, or maybe to her.

Effie was still frozen and the girl’s eyes were starting to get teary.

It was a disaster.

And then Haymitch staggered closer, spurting nonsense and tossing an arm around the girl’s shoulders and before she understood if that was an act or if he was actually _that_ drunk, he plummeted from the stage and knocked himself unconscious.

She schooled her features into something neutral, noticing the girl had managed to get her emotions under control, and acted as if nothing unusual at all had happened, calling out the boy’s name while Haymitch was being evacuated on a stretcher carried by two Peacekeepers who looked half-amused and half-annoyed. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Iris following after her eldest son.

Soon enough Peeta Mellark was called on stage and she breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the cameras were turned off. She left her new tributes to the care of Mayor Undersee and his Peacekeepers for the goodbyes, hurrying to Hayden who still looked transfixed.

“We have a volunteer.” she told him because she felt the need to utter the words for herself.

“No, Effie.” he shook his head, a small smile stretching his lips. “We may have a potential victor.”

She had known it the second Katniss had stepped forward, she realized. There was something to the girl… Something _special_.

“We need to start planning right ahead.” she said. “If we can…”

“Hayden!” a young man called, hopping on stage despite the security tapes. She recognized him as the boy who had grabbed Katniss’ sister earlier.

“Gale, I will do what I can…” Hayden immediately answered, clasping the boy’s shoulder. “But I can’t make any promise, you know that.”

“She can win.” the boy insisted, almost desperate. “I know she can. She’s good with a bow, you know, and I… I…” Gale’s eyes darted to her and back to Hayden again and whatever he was going to say remained unsaid. Effie had a good idea though. “ _Please_.”

“I will try.” the junior victor promised. “You should go say goodbye. And be strong, don’t let her see you’re afraid. She will need it.”

Gale nodded as if in a daze and darted to the Justice Building.

“Poor boy.” Effie sighed.

She couldn’t imagine having to watch someone she loved be shipped to their probable death in a deadly arena.

“I am going to kill your brother!” Iris declared from below the stage. Hayden and Effie joined her and inquired about Haymitch’s health.

After being informed he was alright except for the amount of liquor in his system and that they had brought him to the train so he could sleep it off, Effie pouted. “I am afraid you will be unable to kill him, Iris, I will get to him first.” 

“Make sure to lecture him before you do.” Iris granted with a nod.

It was odd not to have Haymitch there as she and Hayden exchanged goodbye hugs with Iris. Odder still when Hazelle Hawthorne suddenly appeared as they were on their way to the train and hugged Hayden, whispering something in his ear. She walked away without a glance for Effie.

“What did she want?” she asked.

“She knows Katniss.” he explained. “Almost everyone in the Seam knows Katniss.”

That was all he was willing to say.

She settled the tributes like she always did before checking on Haymitch who was sound asleep in his room. He didn’t bother getting up for dinner and that was probably just as well because, even with Hayden there to act as buffer, there was an odd tension. They didn’t talk about strategy just yet, she and Hayden had a routine of waiting for the right moment to do that and, obviously, her comments about the children’s nice table manners – that she had intended as a compliment – rubbed the girl the wrong way because she made a point of eating with her fingers.

The recap of the Reaping made her frown at some points, some tributes stuck out as dangerous opponents but that was Hayden’s job, to notice their strengths and their weaknesses, Effie watched their tributes and, for the first time in years, felt a spark of hope. _True_ hope. Katniss was obviously analyzing their future enemies and Peeta, although quiet, seemed to have a sharp mind and was silently keeping tabs on their opponents.

The recap from District Twelve left her pursing her lips in such a tight line it was almost painful. It wasn’t just the hug or her crooked wig. It was everything else. Katniss volunteering, the silence, the salute… She locked eyes with Hayden right as Haymitch fell off the stage and the commentators’ laughter ensued. It was their saving grace, she figured, the comical mishap of their senior mentor cutting through the building tension.

“You’ve figured out how you’re going to kill him yet?” Hayden asked, probably to amuse the children who were looking far too grim.

“I am still deliberating.” she answered tersely.

“He was drunk.” Peeta observed tentatively. “It’s not really his fault…”

“He’s always drunk.” Katniss grumbled.

“Not _always_.” Hayden corrected. “Often but not always.”

It was the moment Haymitch chose to appear, clearly still out of it, staggering and holding his head. His glassy eyes passed over the children and his brother to settle on her.

“I _so_ can explain, sweetheart…” he said.

“I am sure it will be _riveting_.” she hissed.

Whatever brilliant explanation he was about to give ended up in him throwing up all over the brand new carpet and to top it off, he fell into the mess. Effie lifted her hands in exasperation and looked at Hayden. “It’s your turn.”

She lingered just enough to see their tributes help Hayden picking Haymitch up the floor – _that_ was certainly a first. Her room was right as she had left it and she busied herself with getting ready for bed, occasionally jotting down notes on her notepad about possible angles for the children’s image. She remained at her dressing table late into the night, trying to put down in writing any possible avenue that might work to help them get sponsors when the train slowed down and stopped in a familiar squeaking sound. _District_ _Six_ , she figured. The train would remain there for fifteen minutes.

She stretched, thinking that she should really go to bed now or she would never be able to get up early enough the following morning, when the sharp ringing took her by surprise. Her eyes immediately fell on the phone stuck to the wall that was there for emergency purposes only and who had never, in her nine years of escorting, rung before.

She picked up tentatively. “Hello? Effie Trinket speaking.”

“ _Miss Trinket, you’re a difficult woman to get a hold on to.”_ answered a deep and sweet masculine voice that seemed to come from the other side of Panem.

“I would imagine so since I am currently lost in the middle of nowhere.” she retorted. “This is an emergency line.”

“ _Yes. Gamemaker Heavensbee authorized me to use it.”_ the man replied easily. “ _I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep but it_ is _a matter of emergency.”_

Heavensbee. Again. For a man she only knew in passing, he seemed to keep popping up into her life at random.

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to _actually_ inform me of the nature of the emergency then.” she scowled, gritting her teeth to remain polite.

Her irritation only seemed to amuse the stranger. “ _My name is Cinna, perhaps you have heard of me?”_  

“The stylist?” she frowned. Cinna was a rising name in the fashion field. He would be _very_ popular in a few years, she was sure, all that was missing was his big break, _the_ piece that would make the difference. 

_“Yes.”_ he confirmed. “ _I know Twelve already has stylists for this year but I was hoping you would fire them and take me and my associate instead. I really want to work for your tributes. We are ready to put an all-nighter, Miss Trinket. In fact, we already started working on outfits for tomorrow’s ceremony in the off chance you would take up my offer. We really do believe in Twelve and we would love to work with you.”_

For the second time that day, Effie remained thunderstruck.

_“Miss Trinket, are you still there? The connection isn’t great…”_ Cinna insisted.

“Is this a joke?” she asked. “Because I know for a fact District Five requested you and you said you weren’t working for the Games. You said you were an artist not a Games stylist.”

_“I am an artist.”_ Cinna answered. “ _And I wasn’t planning to work for the Games but your girl caught my eyes. She inspired me. I do really want to work with Twelve, I think we could all be a great team. I think we could win.”_

“You don’t even know Katniss…” she argued because it was _insane_.

_“It doesn’t matter. She made an impression.”_ Cinna said. “ _What is your answer? I can take care of everything on my end. I will inform your former stylists and everything will be ready when you arrive tomorrow morning. I understood you are usually in charge of yours and your victors’ outfits but Portia and I would be willing to see to that too. I am really, really eager to work with you, Miss Trinket.”_

It wasn’t really a request, it seemed the stylist had thought about everything. She hesitated for a second, thought about waking up Hayden to ask his opinion on the matter, and then breathed out a long sigh. First a tribute who volunteered now a stylist who wanted to work with them…

“Alright.” she gave in. At least, she knew some of Cinna’s work and he _was_ a name in the fashion field. It might grant them some advantages. “I don’t want them naked, I don’t want them covered in coal and I don’t want them wearing gunnysack.”

_“Miss Trinket, please.”_ Cinna laughed. _“I_ am _an artist. Don’t worry about anything. Your tributes will be fabulous._ ”

And, curiously, she trusted him.


	77. Chapter 77

The mattress dipping behind her woke her up. She glanced at the clock on which bright red numbers were flashing a four and a ten, and she groaned in annoyance. She hadn’t been asleep long enough for her to already be awake. She went rigid when an arm was carelessly thrown over her hip.

“What do you _think_ you are doing, Haymitch?” she hissed.

“We always sleep together, sweetheart.” he grumbled against the back of her neck. It was almost accusatory. “I wake up, I’m on the train and you aren’t there.”

_The nerves of that man_ …

“Do you remember when I said I was keeping my ‘kicking you out of bed’ card for a very serious offense?” she retorted. “Well, I’m playing it now. Go back to your own room.”

She wasn’t expecting him to comply and so she wasn’t hugely surprised when he tightened his hold instead.

“’Cause I got a little drunk?” he scowled.

“A little?” she scoffed, tossing him a glare over her shoulder.

He sighed, let go of her and rolled on his back. “Alright. What did I do?”

He sounded sober enough that her lecture wouldn’t be lost. She sat up, switched the lamp on despite his grunt of pain and his instinctive reaction to block the light by pressing his arm over his eyes, and started counting on her fingers. “You were drunk _and_ late. Quite the entrance you made, by the way, not only did you hug me, you _groped me on national TV_. Luckily for us, the camera didn’t seem to pick up on it. What else did you do… Ah, _yes…_ You fell off the stage. _Off the stage,_ Haymitch! You could have split your head open and where would _I_ be then, I wonder!”

“I missed you.” he mumbled defensively. “You’ve got no idea what Mama’s been saying… She keeps telling herself Hayden’s in love with you and she keeps saying I should do the same and find someone, and why not Hazelle? And we tried explaining she’s got everything mixed up but she doesn’t want to listen. She’s lost in her fantasy of upcoming grandchildren. The second you retire, you can bet she’s going to be harassing Hayden to get you pregnant. She has this whole imaginary love story…”

“This is getting ridiculous.” she complained. “We should simply tell her the truth and be done with it.”

“Maybe.” he granted in a sigh. “I don’t want to upset her too much. She’s tired a lot lately. I’m always scared her heart’s gonna burst.”

She let out a hum that didn’t commit to anything.

“I fell off the stage?” he frowned, rubbing a hand against his face. “’Explains the bump, I guess.”

Her lips pursed in annoyance, she immediately ran her fingers in his hair to find the bump in question. It was there, on his skull, impressive but not dangerous she hoped.

“Silly man.” she chided him. “I suppose you were trying to diffuse the tension. I have to admit, I was at a loss for what to do.”

His grey eyes stared at her for a few seconds, confused, and then widened in recognition.

“We got a volunteer.” he said flatly. “Gale’s little friend.”

“Katniss Everdeen.” she supplied, unable to completely erase the excitement out of her voice. “And Haymitch, I think she’s _good_.”

“She can hunt if I recall. ’Doesn’t make her victor material.” he shrugged.

“But she _is_.” she insisted. “ _She_ _is_ , Haymitch. I saw it at once. You told me once that when I would be faced with a potential victor, I would know. Well, I do. _I do_. And the boy has potential too, I think. He is clever, strong, and he is handsome.”

“The boy…” he repeated.

“Peeta Mellark.” she offered, remembering too late he had already been carried away by the time she had drawn the boy’s name. “He seems kind.”

“His mother isn’t.” he told her. “ _Bloody_ harpy, that woman.”

“You need to mentor them.” she whispered.

He turned his head away from her. “I’m done with mentoring. Last year proved that.”

“No.” she said firmly. “Haymitch, those two, they are our chance. One of them could win, I feel it in my bones.”

“Hayden will do a good job…” he started arguing.

“You have a better understanding of the Games than Hayden does.” she cut him off. “The two of you working together… The _three of us_ working together. We could do it.” She bit her bottom lip nervously. “And if Twelve were to win, they wouldn’t be able to ask me to step down just yet. We would have another year together.”

He chuckled bitterly. “So selfish…”

“Yes, perhaps.” she admitted. “But things are as they are and we have a chance. We truly do. A stylist called me last night. They volunteered to work for our team. People _see_ it in Katniss. We can do this.”

“Effie…” he sighed.

“Haymitch, I need you to try.” she begged. “Please.”

He let out another sigh and then brushed his hand against her cheek. “Tell you what, sweetheart… I will take a look at breakfast. If I think they’ve got potential, maybe. But if I don’t see it… Hayden will do it.”

She was so happy by this almost surrender that she forgot she was angry and planted a long kiss on his mouth.

°O°O°O°

At the breakfast table, nursing the cup of dark coffee his brother had placed between his hands, Haymitch was already regretting the promise he had made to Effie in the dead of night. He was letting Hayden and Effie handle the small talk with Peeta, trying to judge if the boy had what it took or not. He knew the kid from sight, had spotted him once or twice near the bakery with bags of flour on his shoulders. The boy certainly had muscles but muscles weren’t everything in the Games. You needed a clever head too – and a pretty face.

Effie was right on that point, Peeta was handsome and if they played their cards right, they might be able to pull a Finnick Odair and make the crowd fall in love with him – it would depend on the stylists. Now, as for brains…

Peeta was certainly charming. He joked with Hayden as if they were old friends, exchanged pleasantries with Effie – who, Haymitch could see, was quickly falling, if that wasn’t already done, for his charms… However, what was more interesting was the quick glances the boy kept tossing in Haymitch’s direction as if he knew he was being tested in some way.

Finally, the girl arrived, obviously sleep-deprived but with the same determination in her grey eyes he remembered from their previous two encounters. She had marked him, that girl. He could still remember her clutching the security tape when the mine had collapsed and he could also perfectly recall the day she and Gale had sold him their entire bags of game for an overpriced amount of money. She had spurt.

And he knew a victor when he saw one.

Hayden waved her over at the table and she sat, nodding her good morning and following Peeta’s advices about what to eat and drink, but her eyes settled on _him_ and tracked his every move.

_Good_ , he thought. She knew how to recognize the bigger threat in a room and she also knew to never let her guard down.

He crushed the budging hope in his stomach before it could properly morph into something bigger. Not yet. He needed to be _sure_. He wouldn’t survive another Alda.

“So, you’re supposed to give us advices.” the girl said once she had eaten her fill.

Haymitch noticed she hadn’t directed that – not a question but a confident statement – toward Hayden. Had Effie and his brother discussed mentoring arrangements for that year? Hayden’s eyes darted from Haymitch to Katniss, uncertain, and then he cleared his throat.

“Well…” Hayden answered. “We usually…”

“Here’s some advice.” Haymitch cut him off, keeping his voice light enough that it would still be amusing but not too light that they would mistake it for a joke. He slowly took his flask from his inner pocket and, ignoring the disappointed looks of both Hayden and Effie, spiked his glass of orange juice. “Stay alive.”

The kids looked at each other.

Another good point, he mused, it would be easier if they were to ally.

“That’s very funny.” Peeta replied flatly with an unprecedented hardness in his eyes – the boy was a fighter too then, he supposed he could work with that. “Only not to us.”

Before Haymitch could react, the boy had reached over and knocked the glass from his hand.

Haymitch moved as if to punch him – and didn’t miss the joined “ _don’t_ ” coming from Hayden and Effie – but before he could make a move, the girl had his wrist in a lock and was pushing his hand on the table. Her knife wedged itself between his middle finger and his ring finger with an uncanny precision.

They stared at each other for the longest time.

Haymitch’s face was set though and he didn’t let anything show.

“Next time, I won’t miss.” Katniss warned.

“Next time, I will break your wrist and stab you in the stomach.” Haymitch retorted, showing the knife he had automatically reached for with his free hand.

The girl let him go with a deep sulk.

And Haymitch’s eyes caught the pin on her shoulder. For a second, the train, his brother, their escort and their tributes faded away and he was back in an arena where beauty was a trap. He knew that pin as the back of his own hand. He knew every bump, the way it glinted in the bright sunlight and how detailed the mockingjay was. He had watched it turn crimson with the blood gushing out of Maysilee’s throat. It had featured in a lot of nightmares.

How had that pin ended up on the girl?

“I’ve always admired Haymitch’s way of making friends.” Hayden laughed, trying to diffuse the tension.

“That’s mahogany!” Effie huffed, more rattled than she was comfortable letting the kids know. “Please refrain from attacking furniture. Haymitch, really! Is that truly necessary?”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” he answered mechanically, studying his tributes with brand new motivation. They were both good-looking. Once the stylists had had their way with them, it should be easy to play on that. He asked them a few questions, already thinking of several approaches to sell them, thinking about how to play on their strengths and weaknesses, plotting…

“So?” Effie asked discreetly as they were about to step off the train in the Capitol. “What do you think?”

Hayden was standing close behind them, obviously listening, clearly ready to share mentoring duty if Haymitch accepted to help…

He looked at Peeta who was already waving at the crowd with a smile as if he had done that all his life and at the girl who was scowling. He would have done it just because of the pin, really… But the girl had potential.

“I think if we play it clever, Twelve might just get a new victor.” he snorted and left it that.

Then came the obligatory waving to the crowd, the signing of pieces of papers and the taking of pictures, kissing a few cheeks or hands, joking with some of his fans… It was madness and it took forever to reach the City Center for the Opening Ceremony.

It wasn’t until they were sitting on their allotted row, waiting for the parade to start, that their mysterious volunteering stylists appeared. Haymitch watched with interest as the man introduced himself and his friend Portia. There was something about Cinna. He didn’t know what precisely but there was _something_.

His first impression was positive, that wasn’t always a given.

“I hope you’re as good as Effie says.” he challenged.

“Haymitch, _manners_!” his escort snapped.

“He’s right.” Hayden added. “We’ve been out of luck with stylists.”

Cinna and Portia exchanged a glance and equally pleased grins.

“Oh, I think you will be satisfied with our work.” Cinna laughed.

The Ceremony started right then, preventing them from further discussion. Haymitch kept note of the interesting tributes: the naturally dangerous ones and the ones the Capitols seemed to favor.

However, when Twelve’s chariot rolled around and the crowd went nuts, Haymitch’s eyes widened in utter surprise.

Katniss and Peeta were on fire.

_Literally_ on fire.

“ _Fuck_ _me_.” Hayden hissed in disbelief.

“Language.” Effie chided him but she was gaping too. She was the quickest to collect herself though. “Smile!” she ordered, grabbing Haymitch’s and Hayden’s hands in hers. “Both of you, smile! They will film us for sure!”

And, of course, it wasn’t long before one of the screens showed Twelve’s team. For the first time in years, Haymitch didn’t have to force himself to smile in public. The crowd was shouting _District Twelve_ with the occasional _Katniss_ and _Peeta_ and the kids were playing it right, blowing kisses, waving, smiling and then the camera zoomed on their entwined hands and the Capitols truly went wild.

“So?” Cinna whispered in his ear. “What do you think of my girl on fire, Haymitch? She could set the whole nation ablaze, don’t you think?”

A chill ran down Haymitch’s spine.


	78. Chapter 78

“Are you _certain_ about this strategy of yours?” Effie asked for what felt like the hundredth time since the kids had started training.

Haymitch didn’t miss the quick glance she exchanged with Hayden as they were waiting for the elevator to arrive. She adjusted her diamond earring, patted her navy blue wig and finally smoothed the crimson dress Portia had gifted her with before fixing his equally crimson tie.

He didn’t know how he felt about that.

Effie was usually in charge of their outfits, she knew what to buy so that he and Hayden would be comfortable but would fit on the Capitol scene. Portia and Cinna had insisted on dressing them from head to toe and while it wasn’t as bad as he had feared, the stylists had provided them with matching clothes. Wherever they went, they all went as a team. The stylists were good and it was subtle but it was there when you knew what to look for.

“It’s not too late to go back to the usual plan.” Hayden added.

Haymitch looked at his simple blue shirt and grey pants with envy. His own suit was far less comfortable albeit much more fashionable. Hayden wasn’t going out with them, he would stay in with Katniss and Peeta and coach them about life in the wild.

Training would soon be over and there were a lot of things Haymitch would have liked to teach the kids. They had done their best though. They had done more for them than for any other tributes before. They had trained them, advised them, coached them, taught them, shaped them into the perfect warriors. Or tried to at least.

“My plan is good.” Haymitch promised with more confidence than he truly felt. “It’s _all_ good. Stop worrying.” Again, their escort and his brother exchanged a glance. “Look, trust me a little.”

Effie pursed her lips but nodded and Hayden shrugged his dubious assent.

They still had their misgivings about his plan though, he could tell. He had to admit it was risky. A lot of people were talking about Katniss and Peeta – people actually knew their names which was never a given with Twelve’s tributes – and his numerous public appearances on TV had helped keep up the interest for them but the girl on fire, despite the fact that she had volunteered, wasn’t the only promising tribute that season. The Career pack was popular and Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus and Enobaria were working their ass off to make sure it stayed that way. The boy from Eleven was promising too and there were a few others that had caught Katniss’ attention like the girl from Five. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t be an easy win – it never was. They would need sponsors.

And that was the problem.

For now, people were curious about their tributes and, naturally, they could beg and court and charm their way into getting their money but everyone else was doing that and nobody would sponsor Twelve without proof of worth. Haymitch had ordered both Effie and Hayden not to go sponsor chasing.

Sponsors, he had declared, were like a difficult woman. Chase them and they would flee. Ignore them and they would come running.

Effie had winced at that analogy.

“If you are certain.” she pouted.

“I’m certain.” he snorted. Unable to resist the pout, he pressed a kiss against her mouth, forgetting for a second that Hayden was standing there.

His brother cleared his throat. “It’s kind of working for now but… How long?”

It wasn’t _kind of_ working. It _was_ working. 

People – victors and sponsors alike – were puzzled about their approach to the Games. Two of them went out every night, he and Effie more often than not but sometimes it was Hayden who went with their escort and, on two memorable occasions, he had dragged his brother out, but never where they were expected to be. Instead of making an appearance at the big Games parties where all the sponsors were going, they targeted more low-key parties, club openings or events that had absolutely nothing to do with the Games. Medias were following their outings with growing excitement, sure they had something up their sleeves. The key objective was to be seen and talked about – something Effie excelled at – and show no interest in looking for sponsors, let them come instead.

Finally the elevator doors opened with a chime and Effie glanced at Hayden one last time. “Don’t let the children stay up too late. They have to be in tip-top conditions for training tomorrow.”

“I feel like an overgrown babysitter.” Hayden grumbled.

“’Cause that’s what you are, baby brother.” Haymitch snorted, nudging Effie into the elevator, knowing they would never leave otherwise. She never succeeded in not getting attached to tributes but that year, they had all let that rule fly through the window. He knew already that his heart would be in pieces when one of them would die – regardless of the fact he was truly hoping they could bring one of them back.

He shouldn’t have a favorite naturally but the girl pulled at some forgotten strings in his heart. She reminded him way too much of his young self. The way she talked about her sister, what she had to do for her family, her arrogance… She was strong, his girl on fire, and she could go far. She could come back.

The boy though… The boy was moving. He had a hard edge underneath the softness but Peeta was a kind boy at heart there was no denying that. And the way he looked at Katniss… Haymitch wondered how the girl could remain unaware of the boy’s feelings, how she could be _that_ clueless… It hadn’t been discussed but he knew Effie and Hayden had picked up on it too.

“Where are we going tonight?” he asked her, right before the elevator reached the lobby.

“A fashion show.” she answered. “There will be a red carpet, that will give us coverage and there will be a party afterwards.”

“I will be bored out of my mind.” he sighed. “You could have chosen something more interesting.”

“It’s not actually easy to find events with media coverage other victors won’t go to, you know.” she grumbled as they exited the elevator. She slipped her arm under his and forced her fake escort smile on her lips. “Besides, I have a particular interest in one of the stylists. He offered me a job in his designer house.”

“A job?” he frowned.

“Smile, darling.” she hissed through gritted teeth as they stepped outside.

Waving at the crowd, smirking and winking to fans were all ingrained habits by now but he was relieved to reach the car nonetheless.

Effie’s smile disappeared as soon as they were safely inside, separated from the Avox driver by a thick tinted glass.

“I need to start thinking about what I will do once they ask me to step down.” she said. “Fashion is my field. Working as a fashion consultant in a designer house would suit me, I think, but I won’t take any decision now.”

He couldn’t imagine not having her as their escort. He couldn’t remember what it had been like before her.

“You’ve talked to Cinna about the interviews?” he asked her, his mind never wandering far from the tributes.

“Yes.” she hummed. “He showed me the designs for Katniss’ dress, they are _amazing_. And Peeta should be really distinguished too.”

Cinna was certainly talented, he mused, leaning against the door and rubbing his palm against his stubble. “What do you know about him?”

“Well… He is a baker born but he is an artist really. He drew me the other night. Of course, I was a bit miffed because he was supposed to take notes and not doodle but, truly, it was better than Katniss’ obvious lack of interest – that girl has _no_ manners – and it was so pretty!” She clasped her hands in her enthusiasm.

“I meant Cinna not Peeta.” he mocked.

If Katniss was his favorite, Peeta was Effie’s.

“Oh, Cinna…” Her enthusiasm deflated slightly. “He is a very talented man. He is not a classic stylist, he is an _artist_ truly. I did not know him personally before, you know, but he seems to me to be a kind man. And he certainly is devoted to our team. He believes in Katniss like no one else.”

“Yeah.” Haymitch commented.

“What is it?” she asked. “I thought you liked him. You two look friendly.”

He liked Cinna, that was true. For a Capitol, the man was tolerable and could actually talk about things that _weren’t_ fashion. And Portia was a very nice lady who could take a joke unlike some others. Yet something was nagging at him. He couldn’t quite forget what Cinna had told him at the Opening Ceremony : _What do you think of my girl on fire, Haymitch? She could set the whole nation ablaze, don’t you think?_

“You’re beautiful.” he told her for no other reason than that it was true. The crimson dress hugged her curves and showed a good deal of legs. Like the rest of Cinna’s and Portia’s designs, it was less _Capitol-ey_ than the usual extravagant style people went for around that part of the country. He didn’t let his eyes linger on the heavy make-up and the blue wig – he knew her features and the texture of her hair by heart, he had no trouble imagining it.

“And you are not gifted with subtlety when you wish to avoid a particular topic but very well, I will play along.” she retorted.

The car slowed down to a stop. It was too soon for them to have arrived at their destination, he glanced through the window, already bored by the evening looming ahead. Maybe they would be stuck in traffic long enough to miss the actual show. He felt her staring at him and turned his head to study her back. “What is it, Princess?”

He squeezed her leg playfully – he hadn’t even noticed he had placed his hand on her thigh, they were like an old couple sometimes; they had their habits, little things that they did unconsciously.

Her lips stretched into a soft smile. “You have lines.” She brushed her fingertips against the corner of his eye, following the wrinkles that had appeared sometime during the last two years. It was a good thing in his opinion. He wasn’t the young and handsome victor anymore. He wasn’t desirable by Capitol standards.

“I’m too old for you?” he teased, leaning in to kiss her.

She avoided his mouth with a grin. “You will smudge my make-up.”

“Smudge your make-up, tear that dress off you…” he smirked, toying with the hem of her dress.

She whacked his hand away and laughed. “It is good to see you like that, Haymitch, it really is.”

“Like what?” he asked.

Her face softened even more. “Alive. Focused. Sharp.” Her blue eyes darted away for a second. “Last year, you looked desperate. I was scared that you…” She took a deep breath. “I was scared.” She forced a bright smile on her lips. “I _do_ believe in our chances this year. This will be the start of something new, you will see.”

He didn’t quite know how to answer that.

He had left his despair at the door when he had taken the decision of truly mentoring the kids. He had made an effort with the drinking too. He felt good, better than he had in years. They had a shot and he knew it. For the first time in a long time he had a real purpose.

He squeezed her leg again but didn’t offer a verbal answer.

The fashion show was just as boring as he had dreaded it would be but, on the bright side, people kept approaching them, asking them about what they thought their chances would be that year, congratulating them for their tributes, not so subtly inquiring why they weren’t more actively looking for sponsors…

Effie was like a fish in a pond.

She dragged him from group of people to group of people, smiled and laughed and chatted and laughed some more… He was good at playing the playboy but she was better than he was at being the social butterfly by far.

He was relieved when they finally returned to the Training Center a few hours later, a few business cards of influential people in the front pocket of his suit – just in case, he needed sponsors at some point – no promises, of course, but they might just be interested later on. Haymitch had taken the cards but hadn’t committed to anything. He was feeding the rumor mill, letting it be believed that he already had his fill of offers, letting people fret about missing out… His strategy would work he was sure of it.

The drive was silent. Effie’s head rested on his shoulder, her arms were wrapped around one of his and her eyes were closed. He wasn’t sure if she was truly sleeping or just drifting off but she was exhausted enough that he sent her upstairs as soon as they were safely inside the Center. She made a face when he said he would just be popping in and out of the mentor lounge to test the waters.

“Don’t drink too much.” she sighed, already resigned to the fact he _would_ probably end up drinking.

“Don’t wait for me.” he instructed.

“You wish I would.” she taunted but given that she had to hide her yawn behind her hand, it wasn’t as mocking as it could have been.

The mentor lounge wasn’t packed but there were quite a few victors there, grouped at different tables or couches, sharing a drink and talking to each other with serious expressions. He ordered a whiskey and chose an isolated table. It wasn’t long before someone dropped on the chair in front of him. He had seen her coming from afar. After all, even with her walking stick, she wasn’t actually _fast_.

He and Mags stared at each other for a while, studying each other like two predators unsure of how to proceed.

In the end, she was the first to look down.

“I went too far.” she whispered.

“If that’s an apology, it sucks.” he scoffed.

“I forgot what it was to have innocent people to take care of.” she sighed in her soft murmur. “Finnick knows the risks and we told nothing specific to Annie but she knows and she understands. She is strong in her own way. Your mother doesn’t know, she is defenseless, I understand. I  forgot.”

“Not only my mother.” he scowled. “There’s my brother and Effie too.”

“ _They_ are not defenseless.” Mags pointed out but waved the argument away as soon as she had made it. “I shouldn’t have called you selfish or a coward. I should have known better. You love them and you would protect them above anything else. There is no shame in that.” She reached for him and covered his hand with hers. Her skin was wrinkled, her fingers were scarred. “You took care of Finnick when I asked you and I repaid that poorly. I am sorry, my boy.”

“I’m sorry too.” he mumbled, even though he had nothing to apologize for. He couldn’t help it. Mags reminded him too much of his own mother and when he fought with Iris he always ended up apologizing. “I don’t get why you would do something that crazy, Mags.” he admitted truthfully. “I don’t get why you would risk so much.”

Because that was what was bothering him the most. Chaff, Seeder, Mags… They were clever, they were cautious, they had an instinct for self-preservation that rivaled any victor’s… Finnick or Johanna getting involved into an anti-Capitol movement, he could have explained by the recklessness of youth. Mags or Chaff… They wouldn’t risk their lives or the kids’ for a chimera.

He was missing something.

And even though he knew just how dangerous it was, a part of him was dying to know what.

“I will tell you when you are ready, Haymitch.” she promised. “But you don’t understand how huge this is.”

“Spare me the old woman’s wisdom crap.” He rolled his eyes and downed his drink in one long mouthful. “My stylists… They’re involved in your little thing?”

A mysterious smile floated on Mags’ lips. “Now, Haymitch, you know I can’t answer that.”

“Yeah.” he snorted. “You just did.”

He left her there and headed back to the penthouse, rubbing his face during the whole elevator ride. _She could set the whole nation ablaze,_ Cinna had said. He didn’t want Katniss to set the nation ablaze, he wanted her to come back to Twelve in a single piece, preferably with all limbs still attached.

Effie turned around when he crawled into bed and she burrowed against his side.

“I told you not to wait, sweetheart.” he scolded her. “You’re going to need your energy. If this goes as I want it to go, the next weeks will be a hell of a ride.”

“I can’t sleep.” she mumbled, obviously drowsy. “I will have nightmares, I just know it. I can see the ghosts lurking…”

“What do you need?” he asked, wrapping his hand around her nape possessively. She liked it when he did that, she always melted against him.

“Exhaust me.” she hummed, her hand running down his chest and further down, barely pausing when it met the barrier of his sweatpants.

“You’re half asleep.” he protested. She was nuzzling his neck with her nose though and her fingers might have been a tad less skillful than usual but they were still doing a good job at making him hot and bothered.

“Not so much.” she breathed directly in his ear.

It didn’t take much more than that. He didn’t even bother with taking off her nightgown or completely kicking off his sweatpants. It was hurried and sloppy but she had to bit her hand to stop herself from crying out. The sight of her white teeth sinking into her own flesh and of her head thrown back in rapture was enough to make him lose all control. He switched the angle, his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs so hard it would probably leave bruises but she didn’t seem to mind. Her hands were at the small of his back, urging him deeper, she was whispering stupid things…

He came with a grunt.

He rested his forehead against her collarbone and tried to catch his breath back.

“You shouldn’t become a consultant.” he said, out of the blue. “You should do what you like.”

“You do _not_ become a stylist at thirty-five.” she objected, letting out a deep growl when he untangled her legs from around his waist. He pulled down the nightgown that was bundled under breasts while he was at it and tucked everything back into his pants.

“Why not?” he shrugged.

“Nobody will hire me or take me seriously.” she complained. “It takes _years_ to make a name and being a model or an escort does not count on that front. I would be better off as a consultant. It will be boring but I do not see what else I could do. I will be too old to model. Perhaps I should become an actress.”

“Start your own designer house then, and hire stylists.” he suggested. “I don’t see you working for anyone, Princess.”

“I would like to design clothes, I think.” she sulked. “I would be marvelous at it.”

He couldn’t help his chuckles as he spooned her. She settled into their usual sleeping position without any more prompting.

“You’re a walking contradiction, aren’t you?” he teased. 

“It keeps you on our toes.” she declared, pulling on his arm so he would hold her tighter. “They wouldn’t let me move to Twelve, would they? Even if I came up with a project to open a factory or something involving fashion?”

“’Might have worked in Eight.” he commented.

“Just as well. Your District is a very depressing place to live in.” she huffed but there was a real note of sorrow behind the jest.

“I can’t leave my family.” he said even though it was unnecessary. She knew already.

“There is no use discussing this now.” she rebuked. “We are going to win and they won’t be able to ask me to step down. It will grant us another year. And then… Then we will figure something out.”

He pressed his lips against her nape, unwilling to make any promise he wouldn’t be able to fulfill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Next week you get to see Hayden deeply regretting the good old time when he knew nothing of the hayffie relationship...


	79. Chapter 79

Effie made a beeline for the liquor cart, ignoring Hayden’s amused look.

“Drinking before lunch… Is it contagious?” he snorted, nodding to the hard liquor she was pouring in a cocktail glass.

“Don’t start.” she warned him. “This girl might have scored an eleven but I am telling you _right now_ , it is _not_ for her charm.”

Hayden was sitting on the rug in front of the coffee table, studying the various sponsoring pledges spread in front of him. Nothing would be official until the Games truly started and anyone could retract their pledge while they were still unsigned by both parties, but Twelve usually had no offer at that point in time, so they were all counting that as a victory. The junior victor dropped his pen and chuckled. “Isn’t that where you come in?”

“There is nothing I can do when they are not willing to learn.” she snapped. She had been delighted by the scores the children had gotten in training – although she _hadn’t_ been delighted by the shooting at Gamemakers – but she was dreading the upcoming interviews like the plague. And the shocking announcement at breakfast that Peeta now wanted to be coached separately had done nothing to appease any tension that might have arisen. Interviews often made or unmade a tribute. “I suppose it is not her fault. She did try.” she amended with a sigh. “Nobody will like her if she sticks to that attitude though.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” Haymitch said, appearing out of nowhere and snatching the glass from her hand before she could take a single sip. He sniffed it and downed it in one go. “Vodka before lunch, sweetheart? Is the girl _that_ difficult?”

“Oh, you will find out soon enough.” she pouted, looking at the empty glass with regrets. “You look cheerful. I suppose your coaching session with Peeta went better than mine with Katniss.”

Aside for a pleased smirk, he didn’t answer. He kissed her full on the mouth instead, something he was doing more and more in front of Hayden to everyone’s embarrassment – although, she supposed that was rather the point. He tasted like vodka.

“Enough.” she chided him, giggling despite her best intentions. “The children could see.”

“ _I_  can see.” Hayden grumbled.

“They’re glaring at each other in the dining room.” he countered, rolling his eyes and ignoring his brother. “Lunch’s ready.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance at the upcoming uncomfortable meal and distractedly rubbed his mouth with her thumb to erase the stains her lipstick had left on his skin.

“You two are gross.” Hayden declared, hauling himself from the floor. “Strangely sweet but gross.”

Peeta, she quickly noticed, looked pleased too. If possible, it only made Katniss scowl deepen.

With a sigh, Effie took it upon herself to play the perfect hostess and keep up a lively stream of conversation. Thanks to Hayden and Peeta, it helped make things a little less difficult than they ought to be. Haymitch was whistling when he took Katniss aside for her coaching.

“I don’t give him half an hour before he loses his temper.” Effie whispered to Hayden before steering Peeta to his own room. Once there, she studied the boy and was pleased with what she saw: no slouching, an easy-going smile on his lips and a handsome face to go with it. “Alright, if my sources are right, and they always are, your approach will be _likeable_ , won’t it? We are going for the boy-next-door attitude?”

Peeta nodded and they went to work. It didn’t take very long. The boy was a natural and she knew instinctively that he would do her proud the next day. The four hours she had scheduled for training weren’t necessary and she let him go after making sure he didn’t have any questions or doubts. He asked her if he could go up to the roof. She hesitated but didn’t see any reason to forbid it so she granted her permission and hurried to help Hayden sort through the paperwork.

When Haymitch reappeared, it was his turn to make a beeline for the liquor cart.

“That girl is a pain in the ass.” he spat, pouring himself a whiskey. “She’s hostile, she’s stubborn and she’s _fucking_ arrogant.”

“Reminds me of someone.” Hayden muttered while Effie swiftly stood up and walked closer. She didn’t like whiskey but payback was payback and she snatched the glass from his hand and swallowed everything in three long mouthfuls, her head thrown back.

Haymitch’s glare was mild. “I would be angry if that wasn’t so hot.”

Ignoring Hayden’s distressed groan behind her, she licked her lips and placed the empty glass down on the cart.

“Enough liquor for you.” she rebuked him.

“Can I have you instead?” he smirked.

“Get a _fucking_ room!” Hayden complained. “And I mean that _literally_.”

“That’s an idea.” He wriggled his eyebrows and, mainly to irritate his brother she figured, he leaned in and nibbled on her neck.

She escaped him and whacked his wandering hands away. “Enough! Behave! _Manners_ , Haymitch!”

Hayden was shaking his head and hiding his eyes in the same move. It was so ridiculous she chuckled. Before long they were all laughing like idiots even though it had more to do with nerves than any actual humor in the situation.

It certainly didn’t improve Katniss’ mood. The girl wandered in the living-room, found them all in stitches and sulked deeper. She locked herself in her room and refused to come out for dinner.

Effie was so nervous she didn’t even attempt to go to bed. She kept on studying the same sponsoring offers until her sight blurred and Haymitch bodily dragged her to the bedroom. He was only too happy to provide a distraction but afterwards, once he fell asleep, she was left staring at the ceiling, fretting over every little thing that could go wrong the next day.

She was up way before dawn to supervise the prep teams’ work. It was only once Portia was there that she started to relax. The stylist took one look at her and declared she needed some _girl_ _time_. Effie tried to protest, to argue she needed to keep an eye on her tributes and her victors – who, despite her strict instructions, were _not_ getting ready and were playing chess in the living-room instead – but Portia wouldn’t hear any objection. She forced Effie under the shower and then helped her with her make-up and wig. She had brought a lovely pink dress that made Effie beam in pleasure.

The rest went down without a hitch – aside for the usual argument when Effie tried to groom Haymitch and Hayden more than they were comfortable with. Both Peeta and Katniss looked stunning and she wasn’t greedy with her compliments. The girl, for once, seemed happy enough to be fussed over. Whatever had happened with Haymitch, she also seemed to be holding a grudge.

Still, she was nervous. She fretted over the two teenagers until the last moment – when Hayden declared enough was enough and dragged her to the audience where Haymitch was already playing the charmer card. She remained at Hayden’s arm as they paraded around, forcing a bright smile on her lips and laughing at every joke, pretending to be much more at ease than she was.

She was actually relieved when it came time to take their seats. She never let her smile falter, too aware of the numerous cameras pointed at the audience, but when Hayden covered her hands with one of his because she kept worrying her fingers, she held on for dear life.

“That’s going to make people gossip.” Haymitch whispered in her ear, when one of the screens displayed a view of the audience and lingered longer than strictly necessary on hers and his brother’s linked hands.

“Hush, Haymitch.” she warned him. A little gossip about her and Hayden was nothing she couldn’t handle. Everybody knew they were good friends and while her now long-time celibacy made people talk, she doubted anyone would jump to the conclusion she was having a relationship with her junior mentor.

“Just saying, Princess.” he snorted. “Mama’s going to love this.”

She tried not to wince at his bitterness and untangled her hands from Hayden, placating him with a smile. He shared a glance with his brother over her head and then took his hand back with a wince of his own.

Effie barely listened to any of the other Districts’ interviews but when Katniss appeared on stage, she clapped as loud as she could, happy to notice other people were making a lot of noise for her. It meant she was popular and popular was good.

“Here it goes.” Haymitch muttered, looking falsely relaxed.

She didn’t think any of them breathed during all of Katniss’ allotted time. They were wrong to worry, though. Katniss did well. She didn’t glance in their direction once, when she looked at the audience, she only looked where the stylists were sitting.

“Well.” Effie huffed, low enough that her voice wouldn’t carry much further than her victors. “It’s always nice to feel appreciated. We spent _hours_ coaching her, Cinna sat down five minutes with her and he is her great hero.”

“At least, she’s not shooting herself in the foot.” Hayden commented, optimistic. “It’s not so bad really.”

“It’s good.” Haymitch confirmed. “They like her.”

The audience, indeed, liked Katniss. When she twirled, they _ooh_ and _aah_ , when she mentioned Cinna, the camera panned on him and he waved like a benevolent mentor. It made Effie huff anew because, as helpful and kind as Cinna had been, _they_ were the mentoring team and the stylist was getting all the credits.

Katniss left the stage without any incident which Effie considered a small miracle.

“Now, it’s going to get interesting.” Haymitch told them, with a smug smile, as Peeta walked on stage, waving at the crowd like he was born to do it.

Peeta _was_ good, a natural. Effie found herself laughing at his jokes and clapping with the rest of the crowd.

Of course, when he dropped the bomb that he found himself in a hopeless love story. Effie stared at Haymitch _really_ hard. 

“What have you done?” she hissed.

“Two birds with one stone, sweetheart.” he murmured back, his eyes riveted to the stage. “Two birds with one stone.”

“Oh, my _fucking_ …” Hayden cursed, understanding a second before Peeta explained himself.

“Don’t you _dare_ finish this sentence.” Effie warned just as Peeta dropped the second bombshell of the evening.

Peeta Mellark was in love with Katniss Everdeen.

They barely managed to get backstage soon enough to stop her from strangling him. Effie stayed back during the following fight mainly because she didn’t quite approve of Haymitch’s manipulative tactics even if she already knew they proved to be effective. Peeta had just given Katniss what she hadn’t quite managed to do by herself: he had made her desirable. As for the boy… Who didn’t love a tragic love story? Two birds with one stone _indeed_.

Katniss was in a mood, Peeta wasn’t happy either… The goodbyes were short and to the point and she hurried away before she could hear any of the victors’ last advices.

It was Haymitch’s turn to toss and turn all night. Sharing a bed with him when he was like that was insufferable.

“Just go fetch a book!” she hissed at some point, irritated and sleep-deprived.

“I will keep you awake with the light.” he protested.

“You are keeping me awake _right now_.” she growled.

He gave in with a stream of curses and got out of bed – dislodging almost all the blankets – disappeared in the corridor – probably waking up the whole penthouse in the process, she was certain she heard a low exchange of voices that could only belong to Haymitch and Hayden. She rearranged the blankets and was slowly drifting off to sleep when Haymitch came in the room with the discretion of a small elephant. He bumped into furniture, tore the covers away from her again while climbing into bed, made the ice clink in the glass of whiskey she hadn’t approved of, and turned the pages of his book so slowly it made an unbearable noise. She tried to ignore it, she tried to go back to sleep, she tried to stop herself from thinking about what would happen the next day and Katniss’ and Peeta’s chances…

More clinking of ice, more shifting of paper, more tugging of the blankets…

She sat up in bed with a sigh. He threw her a puzzled, almost inquisitive glance. She glared at him, and dramatically flopped back down, making sure to grab the blankets with her this time.

“Sometimes, I feel like we’ve been married fifty years.” he snorted.

She didn’t gratify that with an answer.

Naturally, he ended up falling asleep on his book and so she was the first awake the following morning. She wasted time in the bathroom, getting dressed slowly but efficiently, until she was sure Katniss and Peeta had been taken away by Cinna and Portia before wandering out of her room. Hayden was already in the dining-room and wordlessly poured her a cup of coffee, well aware of her morning routine by now.

“Haymitch?” he asked, pushing a plate of blueberry muffins in her direction, knowing it was her favorites.

“He is still asleep.” she grumbled. “He kept me up all night.”

Hayden froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. He dropped it back in his fruit salad.

“You know, when I say it’s gross, Effie, I’m not kidding.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m happy you’re both happy but… He’s my brother and you’re my best friend and I _really_ don’t want to think about what you do in private.”

“I meant he couldn’t sleep.” she clarified, feeling her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “Really, Hayden, who do you take me for? A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“You never had any problem kissing and telling in the past.” he taunted. “But, it’s fine. I really don’t want to know what you two are up to.”

She discreetly rolled her eyes – sparing a thought for her mother’s long lectures about why ladies didn’t do that – and cut her muffin in two. For a minute or two, they were silent. Hayden nursed his cup of coffee and flipped through a newspaper and Effie focused on cutting her muffin in even pieces.

“We have to win.” she declared, voicing aloud what she had refused to acknowledge all week.

“We have a shot.” he shrugged “If they both do as they’re told and stay clear of the Cornucopia… But it’s not very different than any other year. They’re fighters, yes, but we had fighters before and…”

“No, Hayden.” she cut him off, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Haymitch wouldn’t suddenly appear. “We _have_ to win. I’m afraid it will kill him if we don’t.”

“If you’re thinking about last year…” he hesitated.

“It’s not just about Alda.” she snapped angrily, in a whisper. “It’s… It’s _everything_ , Hayden, don’t you see? Everything is getting too much, he will fall apart.”

Hayden studied her with a small frown. “You realize I’m losing tributes every year too, yeah? You do too for that matter. We’re doing fine.”

“We are far from doing fine, we are simply very good at lying to ourselves.” she retorted. “And it is neither here nor there. He had a falling out with Chaff. I do not know the specifics but I _do_ know it has to do with… Well…”

She was unwilling to give a name to what she suspected Chaff’s and Livia’s common hobby was. She was certain bugs were programmed to pick up words like _rebellion_ or _riot_ or _anti-Capitol_.

“Yeah.” he nodded, putting her out of her misery. “It’s not just that, though.” He toyed with the fruits in his bowl, obviously ill-at-ease. “Look, I don’t know anything about it, he didn’t say much, but… I guess… Some of his friends don’t approve of him being with you. Hazelle doesn’t.”

“Hazelle’s opinion matters as much to me as my first pair of shoes.” she hissed. “And even so, I probably care more about my first pair of shoes.”

“She’s not…” His sentence trailed off and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. “There’s no use trying to get the two of you to like each other, is there?”

“I will try for your sake but we agreed not to lie to each other and I won’t lie, I do _not_ like her attitude.” she answered. She didn’t like the way that woman was treating Haymitch, always touching him freely like it was her right. And, perhaps, a part of her realized, the way Hazelle treated Haymitch wasn’t different from the way _she_ treated Hayden which probably explained why the District woman was so hostile to her in the first place – the escort business pushed aside – but it didn’t make Effie more sympathetic to her.

“ _Anyway_ …” Hayden cleared his throat. “From what he said, I think people have been talking to him about you. Maybe that explains why he’s not talking to Chaff anymore.”

“Maybe.” she sighed. “But I fear it is only a part of a whole. He is…” She stopped, finding herself unable to correctly describe Haymitch’s current state of mind. There was a huge part of Haymitch’s life Hayden wasn’t aware of and without that knowledge, she didn’t know how to explain.

“You’re still hiding something from me, aren’t you?” Hayden asked slowly. “We said no more secrets and he told me about most of it but… There’s something else, isn’t there?”

She stared hard at her muffin, as much because she was tired of eluding that particular bull in a china shop as because she didn’t want Hayden to see the tears that the topic always brought to her eyes lately. She was helpless. Haymitch was hurting and she was helpless.

“Okay.” he said quietly. “Okay…”

“Hayden…” she begged. The last thing they needed was a fight. They needed to focus on Katniss and Peeta, to make sure one of them would come out a winner…

“I have a secret too.” he muttered and it was his turn to glance at the corridor to spy Haymitch’s eventual arrival. “Can I trust you with it?”

“I…” she hesitated. She didn’t want to have to lie to Haymitch.

“I think you should know but I don’t want to tell Haymitch just yet, alright?” Hayden whispered. “I want to wait until the Games are over, one way or another.”

“What is it?” she frowned. It sounded serious. Serious with the Abernathy brothers, she had come to learn, was never good.

“When I called Mama last night, I talked to Hazelle for a while…” he told her. “Mama had a fainting spell. She’s getting more and more tired.”

“But the doctors said…” Effie argued.

“The doctors said she needed rest and not to get upset. More easily said than done with her, you know…” he shrugged. “She and Haymitch have been fighting a lot lately. She thinks it’s time he settles down, she keeps trying to set him up with women and she doesn’t get why he throws a fit every time. The fact she keeps hinting we’re either living a secret love affair or stupidly denying our feelings don’t help. I have my fair share of fights with her too, to be honest.”

“This is ridiculous.” she sighed. “We should tell her… At this point, what is one more person? We are an open secret as it is. Almost everyone in the Games business knows or suspects that we are involved… We’re trying to keep a low profile but…” She sighed again. “Everything is _so_ complicated.”

“I don’t want to tell Haymitch until it’s necessary.” he insisted. “He’s going to obsess over it and there’s nothing we can do for now. Hazelle’s got it. She makes sure Mama gets enough rest and she knows to call the doctor if it gets too serious.”

It could all so easily fall apart, she mused. If anything happened to Iris, anything at all… Haymitch would blame himself, she could see it already, never mind the fact it wouldn’t be his fault, he would find a way to blame himself. They needed something good to hang on to. They needed to win those Games.

They headed to the Games Headquarters for the launch with renewed energy and unprecedented optimism. Hayden had never shared her hopes before, he had always been the voice of reason, reminded her they were bound to lose, but everything was different that year.

They were standing near their usual pillar, sipping their flutes of champagne and nervously waiting for the screens to come to life, Effie was making small talk left and right in an effort to distract herself. She was in the middle of a story about an atrocious woman who had spilled her glass on her dress a few nights earlier when Hayden suddenly grabbed her shoulder. She gasped in surprise and Seven’s escort glanced at him with disapprobation before heading back to her team.

“He’s here.” Hayden said in a rush. His tone was a lot of thing from awed to stunned. “He _never_ came to a launch before.”

She only understood what he was talking about when he waved to catch Haymitch’s attention. Haymitch looked dashing, as he always did when he bothered to take care of his looks. She had selected the navy blue suit herself from the stock Cinna and Portia had offered. It complemented his eyes.

A few heads turned as he fought the crowd to get to them and Effie couldn’t help herself. As soon as he was within reach, she slipped her arm under his and gripped tight, sending a defiant glare around. Haymitch didn’t notice, he was scowling at his brother.

“You could have woken me up.” he grumbled.

“How was I supposed to know you wanted to come?” Hayden asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“’Wouldn’t miss the Girl On Fire’s big day, would I?” he snorted. “And I have a surprise in store.”

“Another one?” Effie hissed. “I am not sure I appreciated the last one.”

“Since it involves your boy staying alive _that_ little bit longer, I think you will like it, sweetheart.” he retorted.

That made her fall silent.

People had noticed Haymitch’s exceptional attendance and were talking. Fingers were pointed in their direction, some nodded, some came over to chat… A few victors exchanged handshakes with him… It was more attention than Hayden ever got during a launch and, still gripping Haymitch’s arm, Effie watched, helpless, as Hayden fell back behind them, unnoticed.

When Brutus nodded at Haymitch, Effie’s eyes widened though, and she forgot everything about his brother.

“Since when are we on friendly terms with Two?” she asked.

“Since we’re players, Princess.” he answered, just as Panem’s anthem started. The Capitol seal appeared on the screens and Haymitch guided her back to where his brother was waiting. If Hayden had been bothered by the fact they had abandoned him, he didn’t let it show.

Haymitch listened raptly when Caesar and Claudius gave the audience a tour of the arena and seemed to relax a little when it was confirmed it would be a classic setting: woods and a lake wouldn’t terribly disadvantage their District. If anything, it would be a plus for Katniss.

As was her custom during launch, she crushed Hayden’s hand when the countdown started, never letting go of Haymitch’s arm either.

“Don’t be idiots.” Haymitch muttered under his breath as the gong boomed.

It was always difficult to get a sense of what was happening on screen during the bloodbath but Effie had to stop herself from cringing when she saw the bow at the Cornucopia. Too tempting, she mused, and Katniss was too arrogant.

“ _Fucking_ stupid girl.” he grumbled when the camera showed Katniss making a run for the Cornucopia. Hayden didn’t comment but held her hand tighter.

The bow was too far. She must have realized she wouldn’t make it because she switched target and grabbed a backpack at the same time as Nine’s tribute. The boy collapsed at her feet, a knife jutting out between his shoulder blades. She ran.

“Faster.” Haymitch muttered, almost like a prayer. “ _Faster_.”

The girl from District Two tossed her knife right at Katniss’ back. Effie held her breath but the girl used the bag as a shield and reached the safety of the woods, clutching the unintentional gift with a grin on her face. The escort glanced in the direction of Two’s mentors, not surprised to see Enobaria’s disappointed look.

“One safe.” she breathed out. “Where is Peeta?”

It soon became clear what Peeta’s strategy was. She didn’t know if he had worked it out with Haymitch beforehand, if he had been the one to arrange it with Brutus, Enobaria, Cashmere and Gloss… She only knew that when it became clear Peeta had joined the Career pack, she only felt mistrust and disappointment.

“Hayden, you go and get as many of those signed as possible.” Haymitch said, taking the sponsoring pledges from his pockets and handing them to him. “Effie, go and gossip with as many people as you can. You’re selling the love story. Stress the tragic part, make it believable. Katniss just found out about Peeta’s feelings and now he’s betraying her. I need sympathetic votes for her. We’re going to get money through the Careers for him. I’m taking care of that part. We meet back at the penthouse in an hour.”

He left before she could remind that _she_ was usually the one in charge.

She and Hayden exchanged a glance but the junior mentor shrugged, faking a cheerful smile that didn’t quite hide his irritation at being ordered around. “You heard our self-appointed General. See you in an hour.”

With a small sigh, she composed herself a troubled face and went in search of the closest kind soul who would listen to her sorry little tale about a poor tribute who had fallen in love only to have her heart crushed to dust by the betrayal of the boy who had declared his love only the night before.


	80. Chapter 80

“She needs water.”

Haymitch glanced over his shoulder at the group of Career mentors and dragged his brother further away. Dealing with Gloss and Enobaria for two days had left him with a massive headache and he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself, Effie had come to him an hour earlier with the same request and he had already shot it down.

“There’s a pond near her. If she gets her head out of her ass, she will figure it out.” he argued.

Hayden’s scowl was fierce. “She’s dying of dehydration.”

“Her own fault, yeah?” Haymitch shrugged. “Trust her a little. She will figure it out.”

“We have enough money.” his brother hissed. “We’re _sitting_ on our money. What are we waiting for to use it? It’s stupid. I’m going to get her some water…”

Hayden started walking away, straight – Haymitch was certain – to the Gamemaker tasked with sending parachutes to the arena. He grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“No.” he said firmly. “She needs to figure it out on her own. You want to win? We’re doing this my way, Hayden. Just go help Effie spread stories about Katniss and Peeta. I need this star-crossed lovers story to stick like yesterday.”

Hayden shrugged him off and hesitated. “If she’s dead, it’s not going to stick.”

“If she’s dead it will be by her own fault. She’s waiting for us to send water. She _doesn’t_ need water. She will figure it out.” he repeated. “Trust me and do as I say.”

His brother didn’t like it but nodded and went back to wherever Effie had chosen to base camp for what she called her “gossiping sessions” about her tributes. She had commandeered Cinna and Portia’s help and it was working well enough. Rumors were flying left and right and the story was catching which was good because Haymitch had a plan and, for that, he needed Katniss to start getting her head in the game.

He wished he was as confident about her finding the water as he had let his brother believe he was. Still, she eventually figured it out and found the pond. She even remembered to purify the water before drinking it. She was safe once more, Peeta was mingling well with the Careers… Haymitch headed back to the penthouse a little after midnight. He hadn’t slept in two days and he was exhausted.

Obviously, his escort and his brother weren’t in better conditions.

Hayden was sprawled on one couch, an arm on his eyes to block the light, asleep or on his way to be. Effie was sitting on an armchair, her back less rigid than usual, her movements slightly sluggish. Portia was curled up on the other couch, her head on Cinna’s lap.

“Haymitch.” Effie smiled, immediately hiding a yawn behind her hand. “Katniss found water.”

“I know.” he smirked. “I saw. Told you.”

“You did.” she hummed, her head falling to the side as if she was fighting with all her strength to remain awake. “No one died today. Something is bound to happen.”

“Yeah.” he agreed, flopping on the couch, in the tiny space left between Portia’s feet and the armrest. The stylist was out cold.

“We’ve been running around since the launch.” Cinna explain apologetically. “She tends to worn herself out…”

Haymitch waved that away. They never had any stylist willing to actually _help_ before and that was more than he could ask.

“We’re going to take turns watching.” he declared. “Sweetheart, go to bed before you faint.”

“It is alright, I am not sleepy…” she lied, her eyelids drooping. Relinquishing all composure and proper attitude, she curled up on herself on the armchair and opened her mouth a little in that cute way that always let Haymitch know she was in a deep slumber. She would start to drool soon – and deny it on pain of death. It wasn’t very sexy but Haymitch was so whipped for her, he found it adorable instead of off-putting.

“Go ahead and catch some sleep.” Cinna told him. “I’m used to not sleeping for days when I work on a new collection. I will wake you if anything happens.”

He nodded his thanks but didn’t move to the bedrooms. He stayed right where he was, in front of the screen, watching the live feed – that was following the rather boring trek through the night of the girl from Five – and started drifting off at some point.

He was woken up by a rough hand shaking his shoulder and a scream from Effie. He was on his feet in seconds, not even taking time to assess his surroundings. All he knew was that Effie had screamed and he needed to _protect._ She was standing right in front of him so he grabbed her, pulling her into his side, shielding her with the rest of his body from whatever threat had scared her. It took several minutes and confused exchanges around him before he managed to make sense of what was happening.

He let go of Effie immediately and turned to the screen, staring in horror at the wall of fire chasing after Katniss.

“How long?” he asked.

“Three minutes.” Hayden answered. “How long can she run?”

“How _fast_ can she run ?” Cinna corrected, his lips pursed in worry. Portia was biting on her nail, she reached out for his fingers with her free hand.

Effie grabbed Haymitch’s wrist between hers and breathed out slowly.

Katniss seemed to run forever amidst frightened animals. She must have understood the fire was only in a section of the arena because she seemed to be trying to find a way of going behind the line of fire but that only ended up with her being targeted by fireballs. It was way past dawn by the time she collapsed in a pond.

“We need to send her meds.” Effie declared at once. “She’s hurt.”

“Wait.” Haymitch said, trying to estimate how much they could spare on meds, how much money an ointment for burns would cost, how much they could afford to spend now that would be needed later on. Katniss was bathing the wounds on her hands in the pool of water, she freed her calf with clenched teeth, never once showing that she was in pain or afraid – which he knew she both was. She let her leg soak and reorganized her pack as if nothing was amiss. Haymitch’s throat closed up with a strange sense of pride. “She’s something.”

“That she is.” Cinna agreed softly.

They watched for a while in silence. She seemed to be doing a fine job treating her wounds on her own and as far as he could tell, the burns were not life-threatening. He refused Hayden’s and Effie’s repeated pleas to send her anything. Surprisingly, Cinna backed him up.

When the Careers pack started to close in on her, Haymitch weighed his options but decided against joining Brutus and his crew. If Peeta was sticking to their plan, he would rather be far away from Enobaria when _shit_ would hit the fan.

“I don’t understand.” Effie said plainly. “I know his feelings for her are real, I could see it and he’s not _that_ good of an actor to fool _me_. Why is he…”

“He’s protecting her.” Cinna deduced. “Isn’t he?”

The question was aimed at Haymitch who could only nod.

“You played the Careers?” Hayden frowned. “They’re not going to like that.”

“Payback for Heather.” Haymitch muttered. “Guess, it’s three birds with one stone after all.”

His brother looked surprised he even remembered the tribute at all but he did. Sixty-sixth Hunger Games, Enobaria’s petty revenge over him getting more attention than she had… That poor girl’s death hadn’t been pleasant.

“Effie, where are our funds tab?” he asked.

It turned out it was Hayden who was keeping track of their money and Haymitch examined the papers he showed him with a crease between his eyebrows. He didn’t like that Katniss was hurt while being hunted down but if he sent her meds, he would burn through almost everything they had managed to scrap up.

Of course, when she was forced to scramble up a tree to escape the Careers pack, he wavered even more. Cinna and Portia went out to test the waters and reported back about how popular Katniss and Peeta were and where they were ranking on the betting boards. Haymitch sent Hayden and Effie out in hope sponsors would see them and offer to help.

It turned out Katniss was well-liked. She was spirited and people liked that. Hayden came back with some more money but Haymitch was still reluctant to spend it. It was only when little Rue made her appearance, pointing at a tracker jacker nest silently that Haymitch clicked his tongue and made the decision.

Hayden never looked as relieved as when he was sent down to order the sponsoring gift.

It arrived while Katniss was sawing the branch with her knife – not all the way through, that girl was clever, just enough to make the job easier later on. She found the pot of ointment back on her branch with her sleeping bag.

_“Oh, Haymitch…”_ the girl whispered. _“Thank you.”_  

Again, he felt a lump in his throat.

“Stay alive, you stupid girl.” he muttered back, even though she couldn’t hear her.

Effie squeezed his hand in a silent gesture of support.

He didn’t notice Hayden’s bowed head and closed face until a few minutes later and  he realized that the thanks had been directed to him and not to his brother even though he had been coaching Katniss just as much as he had.

Another night found them all exactly in the same spot, barely touched plates scattered on the coffee table amongst paperwork they were too tired to fill. They would need to get out and find new sponsors at dawn, assuming both of their tributes survived Katniss’ plan, but he knew that doing it right now wouldn’t work in their favor. His eyes darted from the screen to the rest of his team. Hayden was standing at the bay window, his brow resting against the cold glass, watching the city partying outside, Portia and Cinna were huddled on one of the couches fast asleep, and Effie was sitting next to him on the other, her head against his shoulder, her breathing deep and regular.

“You’re alright?” he asked his brother.

“Yeah, fine.” Hayden said but he knew him better than that, something was wrong.

“Sure?” he insisted.

“Just tired.” his brother sighed, turning around to meet his eyes. “You’re doing great, Haymitch. We might make her win.”

There was a touch of bitterness to his voice that left him puzzled. “Well, don’t look more cheerful or Effie’s going to be jealous.”

Hayden snorted and then shrugged. “I’m happy we’re doing well. It’s just… You step in and suddenly we manage to get on day four with both tributes still alive. I keep wondering what would have happened if you had been mentoring all this time.”

He rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t think like that.”

“You’re a victor.” Hayden stated firmly. “I’m a poor copy of one.”

He wanted to tell him he was being stupid but there was some truth to Hayden’s words. His brother was a victor by accident, a lot like Annie Cresta, and as cruel and cold as it might have seemed, it didn’t truly make him a victor. Certainly not like Haymitch was. Hayden had never killed anyone, he didn’t know what it felt like. He felt responsible for the tributes he had failed to save but he had never stabbed someone with a knife or strangled someone with his bare hands. Hayden was clever and he knew how to survive in the wild, but he didn’t think like a predator. Haymitch did.

At dawn, when Katniss warned Rue with a whisper about her plan, they were all awake to see it. The nest fell down on the Careers and mayhem ensued. Effie gripped his and Hayden’s hands during it all. She only started breathing again once Katniss was safely away, although suffering from the venom, and Peeta had managed to escape Cato and his group, although badly hurt.

“We need to go out.” she declared. “We need more sponsors. Peeta will need medicine and…”

She didn’t notice the heavy silence at once but when she did, she stared at all of them in turn as if stunned. Even Portia was averting her eyes, a knowing expression on her face.

“There’s only going to be one winner, sweetheart.” he reminded her, since nobody else was willing to do it.

“And we have _no_ guarantee _at all_ it will be _Katniss_.” she retorted. “She is your favorite, that is fine, but…”

“We can’t afford to spend money on Peeta in case Katniss needs it later on.” Hayden cut her off sadly. “We’re at a point where we need to make a choice.”

Her blue eyes darted from one face to another and she cringed.

“You repel me.” she spat before storming out in a huff of expensive perfume.

Haymitch wondered if she knew how ironic that statement was coming from a Capitol.

They went back to work, sticking to Haymitch’s strategy of letting the sponsors come rather than chasing after them. Cinna and Portia were tasked with keeping the gossips and the love story alive. He and Hayden tackled the more complicated chore of charming wealthy Capitols into giving their money without openly asking for it. Effie was doing the same but she kept her distance and never once glanced in their direction.

Her anger and resentment didn’t diminish over the two following days. Katniss was delirious and they were all doing their best to get enough money to send her something to fight the venom. Meanwhile, Peeta’s leg was slowly but surely getting infected. Things were taking a turn for the worse and Haymitch’s only silver lining was that they were both still alive and out of reach from the other tributes. Peeta was good at hiding and it seemed Katniss had found a guardian angel in Eleven’s girl.

When Katniss woke up two days after the nest incident, he wasn’t overly surprised to find Chaff standing in front of him in the mentor lounge. It was a relief too, because he was certain Enobaria and Gloss were plotting his murder in the corner.

“Looks like we’re allies.” Chaff declared.

“Yeah.” Haymitch said with a shrug. “Looks like it.”

They stared at each other for a while and then Eleven’s mentor whacked his shoulder with his stump. “You’re a _bloody_ stubborn idiot and I _bloody_ missed you.”

“You’re drunk.” Haymitch scoffed, knowing Chaff was just as sober as he was. 

Still, it was nice to work with Eleven’s team again – even though Viola and Effie were not keen on collaborating.

The closer Katniss and Rue got, the more Haymitch was internally cringing, knowing it wouldn’t end well – it reminded him too much of Maysilee. Chaff had no money to spare on Rue, just like they had chosen to favor Katniss, Eleven had opted for Seeder’s tribute. Thresh was promising, Haymitch supposed, but the little girl was clever.

The plan to take out the Careers’ food was a good one. Until it literally blew up in Katniss’ face.

“Why does that girl insist on getting herself burned to crisps?” he complained to his brother. Hayden shrugged, not in the mood for jokes. 

“She’s living up to her Girl On Fire nickname.” Chaff snorted.

“She’s _fucking_ deaf.” Hayden deduced a second before Haymitch did.

The live feed was divided into four squares showing different areas of the arena. Too many things were happening at once but it was only when Caesar’s joyful voice reminded them that they had reached the exciting stage of only eight tributes left that Haymitch cursed, to Effie’s dismay.

“They’re going to interview people back at home.” he said, as soon as he had dragged Hayden and Effie out of earshot. “Hazelle’s boy… We can’t have anyone telling stories about him and Katniss. We need to keep up the love story front.”

“We will say he’s his cousin.” Effie countered easily. “That will explain why he looked out for young Primrose at the Reaping.”

Haymitch nodded, approving that idea entirely. “There’re the Mellarks too, that bloody harpy… And the girl’s mom…”

“I can take care of that.” Hayden suggested. “They’re going to send a crew there. I can probably go with, no?” He directed his question to Effie who hesitated and then promised to call in a few favors.

“Good.” Haymitch declared. “You go there, make sure everyone knows what to do and not to do, and you come back as quick as you can. I’m going to need you here for press coverage.”

“That’s Effie’s job.” Hayden pointed out.

“Effie’s more useful with me. I can’t spare her.” he objected, without pausing one second to think how that statement would be perceived.

“Nice to know you can spare _me_.” Hayden snorted, before heading out. Effie followed him with a last irritated glare for Haymitch.

Tempers were high, he told himself, they were running on too few hours of sleep stolen here and there.

Effie managed to arrange temporary passage to Twelve for Hayden but Katniss didn’t manage to find Rue.

He and Effie were in the City Circle with Chaff, trying to sell their little alliance, when a collective whisper made the three of them stare at one of the huge screens.

“Oh, _fucking_ _shit_ , no.” Chaff spat under his breath when he spotted Rue tangled in a nest and Cashmere’s tribute with his spear.

Effie briefly closed her eyes, long enough not to see the actual strike. Haymitch didn’t avert his gaze. Katniss arrived a second too late, her arrow taking the boy out without hesitation.

“Let’s move inside.” Haymitch suggested because Chaff was glaring at the screen with hatred, his only remaining hand squeezed into a fist.

“No time.” he answered. “I want to watch. I _need_ to watch.”

Realization and understanding washed over Katniss’ face and Haymitch simply placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, forcing himself to breathe evenly, to push the memories down. Katniss cradled Rue’s body against her chest and it felt too much like watching Maysilee die in his arms. When she started to sing, the Capitols around him started whispering, some were crying with entirely too much theatrics compared to the simplicity of what was happening in the arena.

Effie’s breath caught audibly in her throat but she remained collected, in control. When the first Capitol approached them to give them money, she instinctively knew Haymitch wouldn’t take it and so she took care of it, thanked them, forced him to sign whatever they wanted to sign… It wasn’t a long song and Katniss was crying by the time she finished. The cannon boomed.

“She’s a good girl, your Katniss.” Chaff told him, his voice rough. “She didn’t have to stay.”

Katniss didn’t let go of Rue at once despite the implicit rule that dead tributes needed to be left alone so the hovercraft could pick them up. Of course, if the Gamemakers already frowned on a tribute holding another tribute’s hand when they were dying, it was nothing compared to what Katniss did next.

The Capitols around them went wild.

Haymitch, Chaff and Effie exchanged a spooked glance.

Covering Rue with flowers, making Twelve’ hand gesture for farewell…  The cameras quickly cut to another part of the arena but it was too late. Everybody saw. For the second time since the Reaping, Katniss had done something defiant and that wasn’t good, not good at all.

But, _fuck_ , Haymitch mused, that was _beautiful_.

Chaff patted his shoulder and left, probably to find Seeder and help her with Thresh. Effie and Haymitch slowly made their way back to the Training Center, stopping now and then to acknowledge some sponsors who wanted to express their admiration or offer them more money.

“Do we have enough for Peeta now?” she asked softly, as they stepped in the elevator. “Please, Haymitch, he is in a _very_ bad shape. We can’t just let him die… _Please_.”

He wanted to say yes, he wanted to help the boy too, but…

“There’s only going to be one winner, sweetheart.” he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “He wanted her out. He really loves her, you know. He wants her to win.”

She turned her head away but not quickly enough that he didn’t see the tears. With a sigh, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into an embrace she badly needed.

“I know you’re tired.” he murmured in her ear. “I’m tired too. But we can sleep and grieve when this is over, okay? We don’t have time for _feelings_ now, Princess. I know it’s harsh, but that’s how you win the Games. Don’t let your heart rule your head. You know better.”

She nodded, her lips wobbling, and stepped away from him, faking a cheerful smile that didn’t reach her bright blue eyes.

Hayden and the two stylists were already in the penthouse’s living-room, looking sad and close-faced. Wordlessly, Effie poured everyone drinks. She had barely sat down and taken a sip from her glass when a silver parachute floated down in front of Katniss. Haymitch immediately turned to Hayden. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Hayden denied. “That’s not me.”

“Well, that’s certainly not _me_ so what…” Haymitch started only to be interrupted by Cinna’s hand on his arm.

“It’s Eleven.” he said, sounding surprised. “The bread. It’s from Eleven, I recognize the shape.”

There were reasons to be surprised. A tribute receiving a gift from another District was unprecedented.

“Is that allowed?” Effie asked, awed. “Isn’t it against the rules?”

That statement was followed by a deadly silence in the living-room in which Katniss’ word sounded all the more clearly.

_“My thanks to the people of District Eleven_.”

Again the camera cut quickly to someone else but _too late_. Haymitch had felt the thrill and one glance at his brother confirmed he had felt it too.

The resentment buried for too long, the sense of injustice, the helplessness embodied by Katniss watching little Rue die without any hope of being able to save her…

That sentence, added to the lullaby and the flowers, was too much. Haymitch wanted to riot, he wanted to scream and shout and tear the Capitol down brick by brick with renewed hatred.

_She could set the whole nation ablaze_ , Cinna had said and he hadn’t measured how true it was. 

Had it been Chaff’s aim? Stroke the already existing spark so the fire would catch? No… Haymitch thought. No, it was genuinely meant as a thank you. The fact that it would upset the Districts was only an added bonus.

The feed showed Peeta, caked in mud to hide from those hunting him, his eyes staring at the sky, his face an expression of anguish as he waited for the faces of the dead tributes to appear, waited to know if Katniss was gone or not, all the while knowing that the cut in his leg was too deep and that he would probably not survive longer than a day or two…

“Maybe it’s time to change the rules.” Haymitch said slowly, in answer to Effie’s question. He had changed his mind. He wouldn’t choose between Katniss and Peeta. He wouldn’t play their game. He would save them both. Or he would try at least.

He found Effie’s eyes easily, she was already staring at him, equally scared and determined. “What do you need?”

She had once said she would stop at nothing for him. Curiously, he had never doubted it.

“Crane.” he said.


	81. Chapter 81

“Do you think she loves him?” Effie whispered.

Haymitch shrugged lazily in answer, never letting his eyes wander away from the screen. It had been a long night. It had been a long eighteen days. Convincing Crane to change the rules, watching Katniss find Peeta, making her understand through a succession of gifts that her interest was in making their story believable, watching the feast and fearing for her life, watching them hunt for Cato, watching the mutts with the dead tributes’ eyes hunting all of them, watching her save Peeta again despite all the risks to herself… Cato’s agony was endless, it seemed the mutts were intent on ripping him to shreds and weren’t managing to kill him first.

Perched on the slippery Cornucopia, Katniss and Peeta were waiting for the night to end and the cannon to boom.

Slumped on the penthouse couch, Twelve’s team was doing the same.

Cinna and Portia had volunteered to go out and be seen around to represent Twelve. Truthfully, they should all have gone out to watch the last hours of the Games in public. People were already celebrating in the streets, Hayden kept getting up to answer the phone, giving laconic comments and promising they would come out as soon as it would be over… They didn’t want to be in public when Cato’s cannon would boom because none of them believed for one second that the Gamemakers would keep the rules change. Crane was already back-pedaling as much as he could because President Snow wasn’t pleased – everyone was talking about it backstage.

It would be a final twist, Haymitch mused, a tragic and unexpected one.

He watched the kids huddle together to keep warm and he felt guilty. He should just have let one of them die earlier because now…

“Whoever comes out…” Hayden said. “They’re going to hate us forever.”

“It might not come to that.” Haymitch commented.

Peeta was drifting off more and more often despite Katniss’ best efforts to keep him awake. Any of them could still die yet. He spared a thought for Brutus who was probably doing the same thing they were, hoping against all hopes his tribute would come out a winner even if it seemed everything was already played out.

“I think she does love him.” Effie murmured. “She couldn’t act to save her life.”

Haymitch glanced at her but she didn’t notice. He didn’t think she was in any state to notice anything but the live feed. None of them had slept or eaten properly in days. Haymitch’s mind had been on one track ever since the launch. 

“How’s Mama?” he asked, out of the blue. Hayden had found enough time to phone home every two days but Haymitch hadn’t talked to his mother since… He thought it had been the third day of the Games. He didn’t miss the look Hayden and Effie exchanged. “What didn’t you tell me?” he scowled without real heat. He didn’t have enough energy in store to get properly angry at them.

“She was tired, she had fainting spells and chest pains.” Hayden sighed. “She’s better now.”

“You’re sure?” he insisted, rubbing his eyes. “We could speak to that doctor…”

“Katniss’ mother gave her some plants to do a herbal tea. She says it helps her.” his brother shrugged. “Hazelle said she looked better. She’s keeping an eye on her anyway.”

“Okay.” he nodded, trusting Hayden’s judgment until he could see for himself. “Mama knows Katniss’ mother? How? I didn’t even know who she was before I saw her on TV.”

“And you know every woman in your District?” Effie mocked but her head dropped on his shoulder before he could retort.

“She looked lost when I went there for the interviews. And Prim was trying so hard to look brave for her sister’s and her mother’s sake… I introduced them to Mama.” Hayden explained. “You know how Mama is, they’re practically living at home now. This way they can watch TV all the time, not just the mandatory viewings.”

“And we’re trusting her with Mama’s health because…” he prompted, not at all surprised or bothered by the news they were having houseguests.

“She’s a healer.” his brother frowned. “Katniss told us.”

“Ah, yeah…” He remembered her telling them. Maybe.

“Anyway, Hazelle says Aster’s good at her job and Mama’s swearing by that tea so…” Hayden shrugged.

Aster was Mrs Everdeen, Haymitch deduced.

“When everything is over, I am going to sleep for a whole week.” Effie whined. “I swear I am hearing you talking but I can’t make sense of the words…”

“Coffee.” Haymitch requested. “Baby brother, go find us some coffee.”

Slumped on the other couch, Hayden made a face. “Why me?”

“’Cause we’re old.” he replied.

“I’m not old.” Effie grumbled. “But I’m a lady. It isn’t done to make ladies go fetch their own coffee.”

“Coffee.” Haymitch begged.

With a sigh that let them know they were both insufferable and a greater pain that he could bear, Hayden went in search of coffee. What he came back with was steaming, black, lacking sugar and absolutely disgusting. Yet it did the job and they all looked more alert.

At dawn, Katniss shot Cato.

_“Then we won, Katniss_. _”_ Peeta said flatly.

_“Hurray for us_.” the girl rasped out.

Hayden bowed forward, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, refusing to watch further as the kids tried to figure out why nothing was happening. Katniss suggested they moved to the lake so the hovercraft would have enough room to pick up Cato’s body.

They waited on the lake’s shore for several minutes but even though a hovercraft did appear, nothing else happened. Haymitch stood up and started pacing, his hands deep in his pockets.

_“Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rules book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed.”_ Claudius Templesmith announced. _“Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”_

He kicked the coffee table so hard it flew against the bay windows. It was a mess. Broken mugs, broken glass from the table, papers and half eaten sandwiches flew everywhere…

Effie let out a single broken sob but kept her head high despite the tears running down her cheeks.  

There was no winning, Haymitch thought angrily. There _never_ was any winning. They could do anything the Capitol required of them, they could play the game, they could kneel and crawl and beg… There would _never_ be any winning.

_“If you think about it, it’s not that surprising.”_ Peeta said, dragging himself to his feet. The boy pulled the knife from his belt and Katniss instinctively aimed at him with her bow. Hayden sighed and looked up at the screen, Effie hugged herself and Haymitch stared, wondering who would crack first, who would kill the other, who he would have to hold and comfort while they spent the rest of their life reliving that moment over and over again. But Peeta tossed his knife into the lake and Katniss dropped her bow. “ _No. Do it_.” The boy picked up her weapons and tried to force them back in her hands.

The girl wouldn’t take them. _“I can’t. I won’t.”_

“Well, at least the Gamemakers will be happy.” Haymitch spat. “This is gold for them.”

“Shut up.” Hayden snapped. “Not now, Haymitch.”

“ _Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don’t want to die like Cato.”_ Peeta insisted.

_“Then you shoot me_.” Katniss countered, shoving her bow in his hands. _“You shoot me and go home and live with it!_ ”

“I can’t watch.” Effie suddenly said, standing up.

“You have to.” Haymitch growled. “We owe it to them. All three of us. We brought them here.”

“You two brought them here.” Hayden corrected quietly. “I just handled the paperwork. You two did the job. Whoever wins, they’re your victor.”

“Now is _so_ not the time for your insecurities, Hayden.” Effie hissed.

“ _You know, I can’t_.” Peeta answered, tossing the bow aside. “ _Fine. I’ll go first anyway.”_

“No!” Effie and Katniss shouted at the same time as Peeta ripped off the bandage around his leg.

“He is going to bleed to death.” Effie screeched.

_“You can’t kill yourself!”_ Katniss roared, like a wounded animal.

_“Katniss, it’s what I want._ ” Peeta argued.

Haymitch kicked the broken table again, hitting it again and again until one of the legs came loose.

“ _You’re not leaving me here alone_.” Katniss pleaded, sounding more broken than Haymitch had ever heard her.

“You think they’re showing this in the Districts?” Hayden asked him.

“It’s the end, of course they’re showing it. They have to.” Haymitch spat. However, he knew what his brother meant. That was… _heavier_ than any other Games before. Alliances were common in the Games, friendships sometimes, but not that. _That,_ hit close to home. And it was only the last in a long series.

_“Listen_.” Peeta said. _“We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me.”_

The rest of the boy’s speech – a very pretty speech about how much he loved her and could never live without her now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated – flew high over Haymitch’s head. He was watching Katniss’ face and the flash of realization he saw there wasn’t good. Or maybe it was, but…

“ _Fuck_.” he breathed out, and he didn’t know if it was in awe or terror.

Katniss took out a handful of berries from the pouch at her belt and, suddenly, he wasn’t the only one reacting. Hayden bolted to his feet and Effie gripped the back of the couch.

“What are they doing? What are they doing?” she squealed, her eyes wide, looking awfully pale.

The kids started counting and Haymitch could only think one single thing: _we are dead_.

The Gamemakers would have no winner, they would face the discontent of not only the Capitols but of the Districts too, they would need a scapegoat and once they were done skinning the scapegoat, it would be _their_ turn. He had taken the lead on the mentoring front. They would kill everyone he loved. They would killed his mother, they would kill Hayden, they would kill Effie and if he was very, _very_ lucky, they would kill him too when they were done.

_Or_ Katniss was right and they would cave.

It was a terribly risky gambit.

_“Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you – the tributes of District Twelve!”_ Claudius Templesmith’s voice boomed.

For a second, nothing registered. Not the joyful voice of Caesar commenting on how perfectly romantic it all was, how unexpected, _the best Games ever_ … Not Hayden suddenly sitting back down as if his legs couldn’t carry him any longer… Not even Effie letting out a whine…

And then…

_Euphoria_.

More intoxicating than any alcohol he had ever tasted, only comparable perhaps to his own victory and his brother’s.

Effie was the one who recovered first and before he could say or do anything, she threw herself at him. He caught her instinctively and made her twirl, the sound of laughter echoed in his ears but it took him several seconds to realize _he_ was the one laughing. He kissed her. Longer and deeper than he had ever kissed her in front of his brother certainly, but no one complained because then Hayden was there and they were hugging, and patting each other’s back and Effie was jumping all around them in her high heels despite both of the brothers’ warning that she would break an ankle.

There were arrangements to be made, interviews to be given and Haymitch dispatched Hayden to Caesar without asking for his opinion because he wanted five minutes alone with Effie – something he didn’t have the luxury for in the last eighteen days. It was like coming up for fresh air. They kissed like they had never kissed before.

“You did it! You did it!” she kept saying between two kisses. “I love you! You did it!”

Too soon, they had to come back to reality. There were phone calls to give, sponsors to thank, paperwork to fill… Despite Effie’s protests, he left a list of things to do for Hayden. Her protests stopped as soon as he told her she could do it herself but then he would go check on the kids alone. There was no stopping her from running to the hovercraft as soon as it landed. He left Katniss to her and rushed to Peeta’s side.

His euphoria died as soon as the grim faced doctor told him there would be no salvaging the leg. They talked to him about prosthetics and swore that they would get him the best. Haymitch couldn’t do anything but nod.

He put his feet down when other doctors came to him with surgical enhancement plans for the girl. He had to make a fuss to the Gamemakers – a fuss Effie was happy to support, going so far as rivaling him to the loudest shout – to stop them.

It was a few days before the kids properly woke up, a few days they weren’t able to use to rest. There were interviews to give, audience to feed with news and stories and explanations about Katniss’ desperate actions to give… The Gamemakers were absolutely _furious_. Snow wasn’t in a much better mood. Twelve’s team – or rather Haymitch – had been told by Crane that it would be to everyone’s benefit if they could stress that point as much as possible: Katniss had acted out of love and not out of a defiant gesture against the Capitol. They were all on board with that, even Cinna and Portia never missed an opportunity to repeat it in their own public appearances.

Haymitch was reluctant to leave the kids’ side. He sat in their hospital room, going from Katniss to Peeta, swapping with Effie who was just as adamant about watching over her victors herself. Peeta woke up first and it was her who had to break the news to him about his leg. She didn’t quite explain what had happened precisely but there was a new fierceness in her eyes when she spoke about Peeta after that.

When Katniss was finally released, Haymitch was surprised when she ran directly to him instead of Cinna. As surprising as it was though, it wasn’t unwelcomed.

“Nice job, sweetheart.” he whispered in her ear and the girl only tightened her grip.

The reunion was certainly moving. Effie was as teary as he had ever seen her. She kept petting Katniss’ hair, repeating again and again how proud she was, and hugging the girl every two minutes.

Katniss kept asking for Peeta but, as per Haymitch’s orders, the kids were never left alone.

She seemed to understand when he explained to her before the Crowning and she didn’t do a bad job of convincing the audience she was in love with the boy. Yet nobody who needed to be convinced was convinced.

The Victory Banquet was stressful mainly because he wanted someone with the kids at all time, just to be on the safe side of things. It was almost over now. They would be on the train back to Twelve by the next day.

Leaving Katniss and Peeta to Cinna’s vigilant watch, he slipped out on the balcony. He wasn’t particularly surprised when he felt her presence behind him.

“You said it was bigger than I could imagine.” he reminded her, as if they were continuing a discussion they had started only a few minutes earlier. “How bigger?”

“Bigger.” came the raspy reply. He patiently waited until the clicking of her walking stick had reached him and looked down at Mags who leaned against the stone balcony. “An organized rebellion, not only in the Capitol but in the Districts.”

“Impossible.” he scoffed. “Communications are restricted.”

“Not for victors.” Mags pointed out knowingly. “Or escorts and Gamemakers… We are talking about a network that had been in the making for years, Haymitch. All we were waiting for was a spark that would set the Districts ablaze. Your girl, she’s that spark.”

“She’s just a girl.” he argued defensively. “And she’s _my_ girl at that. You asked me to watch out for your boy once and I did. Now I need _you_ to watch out for Katniss.”

Mags’ lips twitched in amusement. “It seems to me your girl has a gift for starting troubles.”

“Oh, and Finnick doesn’t?” he snorted. 

“If you want to protect her, _them_ , I think we are your best bet.” she said. “We are going to act. It is only a matter of time now. I am old enough to remember a life before the Games and I intend to see it again.”

He studied her, her silver hair and dancing brown eyes that inspired nothing but trust, and sighed. “Even with an organized network and a few Capitols in your pocket, the Districts will never have the arm power.”

“Thirteen does.” she said, so casually that he was sure he had heard her wrong.

“Thirteen is destroyed.” he argued.

She flashed him that mysterious smile he hated so much.

His head was still spinning with her explanations about a non-aggression pact, President Coin, and a rebellion when he stepped back inside. Cinna was gone but Hayden was near the kids so he continued on his way, only stopping next to the dance floor when he spotted Effie dancing with Finnick, her head thrown back in laughter. Everyone was staring at them and why not? They made a beautiful couple.

Haymitch had no problem tapping Four’s victor on the shoulder. He didn’t even ask permission, he simply nudged him aside and took his place with a smirk. She welcomed the change in partner with a  beaming smile. They didn’t dance in public often – it happened, of course, she was his escort and it was sometimes expected, but if he could let Hayden do it, he did – or at all, but he needed to hold her at that minute. Too many thoughts were swirling inside his head.

Cameras surrounded them for a minute or two, the Victory Banquet was airing live on all the Capitols’ screens and some selected few in Panem – namely victors and officials who had access to Capitol programs – and, once he was sure they had gone away, he led her to a calmer part of the dance floor, only happy once he found a secluded alcove. He wondered how it was that kissing her always felt so good.

She pushed him away after barely responding to his kiss. “How bad is it?” She looked frightened. He tried to kiss the frown away but she wouldn’t have it. “If you are risking kissing me in public it must be bad. How much trouble are we in?”

He sighed and pulled her back against him, swaying to the music again. If she didn’t want to kiss, he would at least have a dance. She placed her arms around his neck but reluctantly.

“A lot but it could be worse.” he finally answered. The party was raging around them, not a good a place for bugs to pick anything. “We need to keep the love story cover at all costs.”

She breathed out suddenly and relaxed against his chest. “Oh, good. You scared me.”

“Katniss thinks it was all part of the Games, sweetheart.” he told her. “It won’t be as easy as you think.”

She pursed her lips and tilted his head. “But we can manage.”

“Maybe. I still would avoid berries if I were you.” he snorted, only half joking. He looked around but that corner was secluded and there was no one around. He pressed a kiss against her wrist and another closer to her elbow.

“Haymitch…” she rebuked him softly.

“I’m going to take you home.” he said in a tone that didn’t allow disagreement. “You’re going to take that awful make-up off ‘cause you seriously look like a clown…”

“Fashion.” she cut in, before rolling her eyes. “Although I _will_ admit this particular trend of white foundation is annoying. It itches.”

“I’m going to take that dress off you.” he continued, drawing her closer so he could kiss her below the ear. “And I’m going to make you scream really, _really_ loud.”

He could feel her heart racing in her chest, his own body responded to it readily. He nibbled on the soft skin beneath her jaw.

“Except we need to take care of the children.” she pointed out. “And there is _still_ a lot of paperwork to fill and…”

“Hayden will do it.” he interrupted her.

She drew back to look at him in the eyes with a displeased expression. “You are awfully dismissive of him lately. He is your brother and your colleague, not your secretary or your personal assistant.”

“Tonight, he’s my personal babysitter.” he argued before admitting reluctantly. “I asked if I could stay in the Capitol for a little while longer, I’ve been informed that this privilege was revoked until further notice. When the train reaches Twelve, I will stay there until Victory Tour.”

He had been planning on making the round trip with her, to check on his mother if nothing else, and only truly return to Twelve after a month or two as was now his habit. He hadn’t shared much time with Effie that year.

Her disappointment was crushing. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m so tired of saying goodbye to you.” she whispered.

“You and me both.” he scoffed slowly, nuzzling her neck. “Let me take you home, Princess.”

“Where is home? We don’t have one…” She shrugged sadly. “We have my apartment that isn’t really ours because who knows who is listening… We have the penthouse but I loathe calling it home with all the children we lost there… We have your house but that is obviously not ours…”

“You and me together.” he offered. “That’s home to me.”

She chuckled but it sounded too teary for his tastes.

“You are a very soppy man.” she accused him.

“Only when I want to get into your pants, sweetheart...”


	82. Chapter 82

Effie woke up with a hum and stretched, instinctively reaching for Haymitch. Her hand only met empty creased sheets that were still warm. She frowned, half asleep, perking her ears, but aside for the low humming of the train engine, her room was silent.

It was only a few minutes before the door opened and closed quietly.

“You left.” she accused him.

He paused for a second but hurried back into bed. “You were sleeping.”

“That is no excuse.” she rebuked. “You should never leave my bed. _Ever_.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” he snorted, wrapping his arms around her. “What will you do with me in your bed forever?”

“Oh, I am certain I could think of a few things…” she grinned, coiling her hand around his neck and pulling him in a kiss. He tasted like whiskey and it made her frown. “You drank.”

“Only one glass.” he said defensively. 

She pursed her lips, all trace of amusement gone. “Haymitch…”

“I know.” he cut her off abruptly. “I know, okay? I’ve lost control. You warned me it would happen and it did. You were right. You’re happy?”

He sounded bitter and she was far from being happy.

“You need to stop drinking.” she whispered. “Hayden said you were doing well aside for the occasional relapse.” 

“I drink when things get too stressful.” he spat. “I drink when I really need to sleep. I drink when I miss you.”

“I am right here.” she argued.

“Yeah, until morning. And then what?” he grumbled. “Six months is a long time and we worked our asses off this year. I feel like I barely saw you.”

He was right. They barely had any time together. She felt the same way. They had shared a few moments while Katniss and Peeta were in Training but after that, once the Games had started, there had been no time to waste.

She sighed, no more happy with the situation than he was. He propped himself on his elbow and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

“I don’t like you being alone on the other side of Panem right now.” he murmured. “You will be careful, alright? Don’t say or do anything that can be misinterpreted. We’re really dancing on a thin rope here, sweetheart. Katniss made everything very dangerous.”

“That poor girl…” she mused. Katniss was trapped in their lies for the rest of her life now. Effie didn’t know if she loved Peeta or not, she didn’t think the teenager knew it herself – and how would she? At her age, Effie had fancied herself in love every three days but it wasn’t until Haymitch had entered her life that she had understood what real love was.

“I’m going to take care of the kids.” he promised. “I need you to take care of yourself.”

She brushed her hand against his cheek, enjoying the familiar itch of his stubble against her fingertips. “I can handle myself.”

“Won’t stop me from worrying.” he mumbled, leaning in for another kiss. “I trust Cinna. If you have a problem, go to him, alright?”

“That’s new.” she observed, trailing her fingers down the ridge of his nose, learning features she already knew by heart. “You were wary of him.”

“I trust him now.” he insisted. “He agreed to keep an eye on you.”

She huffed with irritation and took her hand away. “I do not need to be watched. I am _not_ a child. I…”

“For my peace of mind, Effie.” he interrupted her. “Anything happens. You go straight to Cinna.”

She glared at him. “Fine. I promise. _If_ you promise to try and remain sober.”

He gave her a curt nod and rolled on her, placing his elbows on either side of her face so he wouldn’t crush her. She ran her hands on the small of his back, drawing circles and silly patterns against his skin, wishing time would stop right there in that moment.

“My dad was a drunkard.” he confided suddenly. “Maybe it runs in the family.”

“You are _not_ a drunkard.” she denied, wrinkling her nose at the term. “You have a weakness for alcohol, Haymitch, that is true, but I have seen you go days without a drink. Let’s keep it that way before you truly become an alcoholic.” Her words were rather harsh but she wasn’t in any habit to lie to him if she could avoid it. She hesitated. “You never talk about your father.”

She had learned long ago that the subject was best left alone both with Hayden and Haymitch. The younger brother was usually more forthcoming with information if probed but the elusive Mr Abernathy was obviously not someone they recalled with fondness.

“Nothing much to say.” he mumbled. “He was a _shitty_ dad and he was a _shitty_ husband. Nobody cried when he left.”

The words were spat with so much resentment and hatred she very much doubted the truth of them. Their father’s departure was probably a wound that had festered over time.

“How young were you?” she asked, running one of her hands through his hair to soothe him.

“I don’t know. Six. Seven, maybe.” he shrugged, burying his face in her neck. “Let’s not talk about that asshole.”

“Language.” she rebuked mechanically. Old enough to remember him, she mused. Hayden would have still been a baby though. “And you never saw him again? He just… left?”

Haymitch sighed and stopped trying to distract her with kisses long enough to prop himself on his elbows again and stare down at her. “Here’s the sorry tale: he was a drunkard, he was nasty and he cheated on Mama with everything that wore a skirt. He was charming enough that finding a woman willing to spread her legs wasn’t that difficult despite his reputation. One night they had a huge fight, she slapped him, he left, we never saw him again. I don’t know what happened to him and I don’t care. The end. Now, drop it.”

“Alright.” she agreed at once, feeling sorry for having made him remember bad memories. She leaned in for a kiss but he didn’t respond, she had to coax him into it.

“We were better off without him anyway.” he grumbled against her lips. He nuzzled her neck with his nose, dropping distracted kisses on her collarbone. “I can’t leave them. I’ve been thinking about it, Princess, I swear I did. Coming to live with you at least part time, assuming they would let us… But… I can’t. I’m too much like him already, I can’t give up on my family.”

“You are nothing like your father.” she hissed angrily, pressing a furious kiss against his mouth. “ _Nothing.”_

“Mama’s heart was broken when he left, I remember that much.” he shrugged. “She loved him despite everything. He abused that.”

“See?” she insisted. “You are nothing like him at all because you will never break my heart and you would never abuse my trust.”

He studied her for a while in the semi-darkness and then dropped a delicate kiss between her breasts, right over her heart.

“Mine.” he breathed out.

That was as close to an _I love you_ as he had ever uttered.

“Forever.” she promised.

“Forever doesn’t exist.” he snorted. “I promised Mabel forever once. Look how well that turned out.”

“I am not Mabel.” she countered.

“No, you’re not.” he granted, rolling off her and onto his back.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” she accused him, sitting up. “I won’t compete with a ghost.”

His hands wrapped around her arm, his palm was warm and calloused. “’Not what I meant. I meant… Forever is too… uncertain. We’re not kids. We don’t need vows and rings and such, right? We know where we stand, you and I.”

“Vows and rings would have been nice.” she objected, lying back down next to him, pacified. “In another life.”

“In another life, yeah.” he sighed, sliding down the bed so he could rest his forehead against hers, his left arm curling over her head on her pillow and his right hand on her hip. It couldn’t be comfortable but he didn’t seem to care so she simply passed her arm around his waist and wedged one of her legs between his. Their lips brushed in something that was barely a kiss. “Might as well have a ring on my finger, you know.” he murmured. “There’s only you. There’s been only you for a long time.”

“I know.” she hummed, drawing circles on his skin with her thumb. “I feel the same.” A teasing grin stretched her lips and she rubbed his jaw. “I would feel it even more if you shaved.”

“Liar.” he replied. “You love the stubble.”

“I don’t enjoy stubble burn.” she denied, only half-joking.

“Something to remember me by.” he snorted, brushing her hair away from her face.

“As if I could ever forget you.” she huffed before closing her eyes. “We shouldn’t talk about being apart, it only makes us sadder. Let us talk about happier things!” She forced her voice to sound bright and cheery and the high pitch made him wince. “How about our victors? We _need_ to start thinking about their talents. I completely forgot to ask them what they would like to do!”

“We’re not in any hurry.” he grumbled.

“I’d rather start organizing things sooner than later.” she argued. “I refused to have them show lame talents. We haven’t had anyone presenting something really interesting since Finnick read us some of his poems. How _lovely_ they were.”

He rolled his eyes. “I remember a lot of sea metaphors and too many allusions to breasts. It wasn’t _that_ good.”

“You are just jealous because you don’t know any poems.” she declared.

“I know poems.” he countered and narrowed his eyes before she could ask. “No. I’m not going to recite poetry to you.”

She chuckled, she couldn’t help it. “I wouldn’t expect you to. What was Hayden’s talent?”

“Wood carving.” he shrugged. “It wasn’t a big hit in the Capitol.”

“I will need to ask him to show me.” she decided. “What about you? What was your talent?”

“Riddles.” he mumbled, rolling on his back with a sigh, obviously anxious to put an end to that particular trend of discussion. She didn’t let that deter her, she simply sat up and straddled him to get his attention. “Now, we’re talking.” he smirked, his hands roaming up her thighs, under the hem of her nightgown.

“Riddles?” she repeated pointedly. She didn’t remember anything at all about his Victory Tour.

“Yeah. I could solve _anything_.” he bragged. “They selected some random Capitols, they challenged me and we would have a competition. I won all of them.”

“Really?” she smiled.

“Test me.” he challenged.

She thought for a bit, trying to remember one from her childhood and then grinned in triumph. “What has a face and two hands but no arms or legs?”

He looked almost hurt that she would ask something that simple.

“A clock.” he answered. “Try something an eight years old can’t solve next time. My turn.” He looked up for a few seconds, searching for inspiration, and then smirked. “A natural state, I am sought by all. Go without me and you shall fall. You do me when you spend and use me when you eat to no end. Who am I?”

“You can do rhymes? Why are you doing rhymes?” she frowned.

“Because riddles are supposed to rhyme when they’re not aimed at eight years old.” he mocked. “Your answer?”

“Wait! Let me think!” she grumbled.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” he taunted, instinctively pulling his stomach in when she whacked him.

She repeated the riddle aloud a few times, thought about it for a few minutes and then chewed on her bottom lip, lost in deep thoughts.

“You’re cute when you’re stuck.” he snorted.

“I am not stuck.” she denied. “How about… Balance?”

His hands wandered to her inner thighs and brushed against a sensitive part of her body.

“Correct.” he declared.

“Is that my reward?” she panted, pressing herself against his hand. “We should make a game out of this.”

He took his hand away with a smirk. “Your turn then.”

If she was competitive, he was worse.

She pursed her lips and thought for a while before grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I have been here forever but I am only a month old. Who am I?”

“We have to work on your rhyming.” he scoffed. “The moon. You’re making this _way_ too easy, sweetheart. Take that nightgown off.”

She did as he wished but slapped his hands away when he tried to reach for her. “No cheating. You ask for my nightgown not for anything else.”

“We hurt without moving. We poison without touching. We bear the truth and the lies. We are not to be judged by our size. What are we?” he asked very fast.

It was humiliating how quick he was when she needed ten minutes to solve one.

“Words.” she hesitated. It seemed the most logical answer but…

“You’re asking or telling?” he taunted.

“Words.” she repeated more firmly, annoyed by how smug he looked.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“You know what I want.” she growled, guiding his hand back where she wanted it. He worked her up with entirely too much skill and left her hanging right at the critical moment. “I hate you.” she muttered out of frustration.

“You’re the one who wanted to play.” he reminded her. “Your turn. Hurry up, I know just what I want for this round… ” He cupped her face and ran his thumb on her lips and she pouted.

“So sure you are going to win…” she hissed.

“I never lost.” he argued.

“What has a neck but no head?” she challenged.

“A bottle.” he answered without a second of reflection. “Speaking of head…”

“Don’t be crass.” she warned, leaving a trail of kissing down his chest until she reached the waistband of his sweatpants. It took some maneuvering to get him naked but once she gave him what he wanted, he looked less proud. He tangled his fingers in her hair and panted, sometimes moaning… She took her sweet time torturing him and just when she felt him ready to burst, she stopped. “Your turn, I believe.”

“Or we could stop playing…” he suggested, glaring at her with all his might. “I can think of another game. It’s called _how long can I make Effie beg_.”

“I rather think I am the one making you beg, darling.” she laughed. “And if we stop playing now, you are admitting defeat. You lose.”

Predictably, he refused to acknowledge being trumped.

“What word is shorter when you add two letters to it?” he growled.

“I see you dropped the rhyming.” she giggled, rather enjoying that game. He was bundling the sheets in his fists to stop himself from touching her. “Let’s see… What word is shorter when you… Well… short! Short!”

He groaned in dismay but then he tried to sit up. “Good. Now for your reward let me…”

“For my reward, you will not move one inch.” she decided, covering his chest with kisses and nibbling here and there when the fancy struck. When she reached the swollen tissues of his scar, his fingers twitched and she smirked against his skin. “If you move, you lose.” she reminded him in a sing-song voice.

“I hate you.” he repeated, closing his eyes tight.

“You cannot see me but you cannot live without me. Who am I?” she asked, the riddle coming back out of nowhere from some random hours of boredom shared with Lyssa during their childhood.

“Air.” he scowled. “Easy.”

“No.” she refuted with a delighted smile. “Wrong answer. You lost. That’s what happens when you get too cocky.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.” he frowned. “You can’t see air and you can’t live without it. The answer is air. It’s a kid riddle. Everybody knows that.”

“Perhaps, but it is not the correct answer to that particular riddle.” she pouted. “And who is the sore loser, I wonder.”

“Enlighten me then, sweetheart.” he sneered. “What’s the answer?”

She waited for a few seconds and then leaned in to whisper it in his ear. “ _Love_.”

He relaxed and even let out a few chuckles. “That’s poetic. Stupid but poetic.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let his hand trail down her body, teasing. “You win. What do you want?”

If that particular question had been a riddle, it was a no brainer. 

“You.” she breathed out.

He rolled them around with a growl and she couldn’t swallow back her laughter. It echoed in the room, so loud Haymitch had to muffle it with his mouth.

“Wake up Hayden and he’s going to have a fit at breakfast.” Haymitch warned her with a smirk. “Never mind _the kids_. Except if you want to talk to them about birds and bees.”

“The children, just like your brother, should not be brought up when we do this.” she decided, wrapping her legs around him.

“You’re the one who can’t ever shut up.” he accused, pinning her to the mattress without effort.

“That is entirely untrue.” she hissed.

“Shut up, Princess.” he commanded. “And try not to make too much noise…”

The last teasing part was too much for her and that particular bout of lovemaking ended up being a competition about who could make the other lose countenance so bad they couldn’t control themselves and would end up being the loudest.

Effie lost.

“Hayden is going to kill us tomorrow.” she chuckled, once she had come down from her climax. 

Their respective compartments shared a wall – granted it was the wall furthest from the bed but she was quite certain that wouldn’t have prevented some of the noises from slipping through.

“Worth it.” Haymitch declared, wrapping the blankets around their sweaty bodies. She tossed her arm around his waist and rested her head on his chest, her ear over his heart. She loved falling asleep to his heartbeat.

“Tell me a secret.” she demanded softly.

He petted her hair distractedly, his fingers tangling in her golden curls and leaving knots. “You know almost all of them already.”

“Almost?” she hummed. “I am terribly disappointed. I thought I knew them all.”

“Can’t tell you _everything_.” he scoffed. “You tell me nothing.”

“I tell you everything but you never listen.” she objected.

“That’s ‘cause you talk too much.” he pointed out.

“Fine.” she granted in an exasperated sigh. “I will tell you a secret.”

“Didn’t ask for it, did I?” he snickered.

“You’re insufferable.” she huffed, propping her chin on his chest to look at him.

“Hardly a secret.” he mocked.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” she confessed all the same. “I can’t breathe without you. I’m miserable. I miss you every second we spend apart. You are under my skin, in my head, in my heart…”

“Anyone ever told you you’re an awful poet?” he teased, gently tugging on a strand of hair.

“I can’t live without you.” she murmured. “That is my secret. Laugh if you must.”

He was silent for a few seconds, his heart was racing a little but not as much as she had feared, then he resumed his petting.

“I can live without you.” he stated. “But I really don’t want to.”

She was satisfied with that. She fell asleep to his fingers running through her hair.

When her alarm rang and she forced herself to open her eyes, he was gone.

It was for the best, she knew. There would be no time for proper goodbyes and they wouldn’t have been able to top the previous night as far as farewells went anyway.

She was the first to appear at breakfast, quickly followed by Hayden who tossed her a dark look as soon as he stepped in. Her cheeks flushed red but neither of them commented on the obvious elephant dancing in the room. They talked about other things instead, what she was planning to do once she would be back in the Capitol, his half-thought through idea to extend his mother’s vegetable garden…

Katniss arrived when he was explaining why he was wavering between carrots and potatoes and she welcomed the intrusion readily. The girl seemed amused by that and took some pleasure in directing the discussion back on vegetables. Peeta looked well-rested as he joined them, his limp slightly less pronounced than the previous day. Haymitch was the last to appear with bloodshed eyes and a severe case of bed hair.

Hayden pushed a cup of coffee in front of him and waited until the children were busy chatting to hiss at his brother: “Couldn’t have been louder?”

“We tried.” Haymitch smirked, winking at her.

Hayden rolled his eyes and Effie pretended nothing was amiss at all.

The rest of the day rolled by awfully fast. They reached Twelve and she had to guide her new victors in front of the cameras, watching with tears in her eyes as Katniss was reunited with her sister who didn’t seem able to let go of her, even when she hugged a blonde girl who she thought to be Mayor Undersee’s daughter. Gale didn’t make an appearance which was for the best in Effie’s opinion, fewer problems to tackle. Peeta’s family was less enthusiastic than Katniss’ but they looked happy enough to see him.

It seemed to take hours to get her victors through the District to their brand new houses, to get the shock and awe – faked or not – on cameras… _Hours_ before she could finally get rid of the filming crew and collapse in Iris’ kitchen for a necessary cup of tea. Iris’ kitchen seemed the fashionable place to be. It was crowded with the three Everdeens, Hazelle and her children - minus Gale who was still missing - the two Abernathy brothers and their mother who was bustling about despite everyone’s pleas for her to sit down. Peeta had declined the invitation, he had let go of Katniss’ hand as soon as the cameras were gone. She wanted to ask what had happened but didn’t know how to brush the subject with the girl.

“I need to go back to the train.” she announced.

“Already?” Iris exclaimed with obvious disappointment. “But you just made the trip… I thought you would most likely spend the night.”

“Unfortunately, the train schedule is really tight.” she explained. She had been told expressly that she needed to be back on that train at two p.m. sharp and that there were to be no delay. She supposed preventing her from spending time with Haymitch was to be their punishment for putting the Gamemakers in a tough spot.

“Too bad.” Hazelle commiserated too cheerfully.

“Isn’t it?” Effie retorted, gritting her teeth.

“I will miss you.” Katniss declared, even if it was probably more out of a sense of duty than out of true love for her.

The goodbyes took forever. Mrs Everdeen insisted on thanking her twice, Iris hugged her, Prim was so sweet Effie promised she would bring some beautiful dresses for her during her next visit – the girl hadn’t asked for anything naturally but her clothes were barely more than rags – Iris hugged her tight… She hugged Haymitch too, longer than strictly necessary but nobody seemed to find it odd, even when she pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“Would you walk me back?” she asked Hayden.

He nodded good-naturedly and it was only when she spotted Iris’ delighted face that she realized that was another mishap. There was no time to correct it though and too many people to explain to her victors’ mother where exactly she was mistaken.

They stopped by Peeta’s new house. The boy was sitting alone in his living-room. His family wouldn’t be joining him in the Village, he told them. He hadn’t offered and they hadn’t asked. It seemed a bit extreme to Effie but she held her tongue, hugged him tight and fussed over him properly like his mother hadn’t bothered to do. She reminded him to take his meds for his leg, made sure he had the list and instructions, made him promise to call her soon and made him swear he would go to Haymitch or Hayden at the smallest problem.

She was still uneasy about leaving him when they finally left for the train station, hopelessly behind schedule.

“You really like that boy, don’t you?” Hayden teased her on the way. “You looked like Mama when I have a cold in there. Ever thought about having some of your own?” He winced as soon as he had asked, realizing too late what he already knew: Haymitch didn’t want children. “Sorry.”

She waved that away. “No need to apologize. I do not enjoy babies.”  

Although that wasn’t strictly true. Now that her niece was four and less susceptible to throwing up on her every two seconds, she rather liked taking care of her. She doted on the child to her sister’s fond annoyance and spoiled her rotten. She might not have liked babies but she thought she would love a toddler. Not that it was any use fancying the thought.

A switch of topic was in order and they were lacking time to be subtle so she chose the direct approach. “I need a favor.”

“Always.” Hayden answered easily.

“Make sure Haymitch doesn’t drink too much.” she pleaded. “Once in a while is acceptable, I suppose, but he can’t start drinking every day. He is already struggling as it is. I am afraid he will…”

“He’s already addicted to the stuff, Effie.” he sighed as they reached the platform. “If he’s upset, he drinks. If he’s angry, he drinks. It doesn’t take much of an excuse nowadays… Maybe his body isn’t addicted yet but his mind certainly is.”

“He knows he has a problem. He promised me he would try.” she whispered. “Please, help him.”

“I will do my best.” he offered.

“Thank you.” She flashed him a beaming smile and threw her arms around his neck in a bear-like hug. “I will miss you.”

“Me too.” he mumbled. “Even though I won’t miss you and my brother snogging everywhere I look.”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

It made her departure a little less sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Let me know!


	83. Chapter 83

Safia was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, playing with her toys, utterly lost to her own little world, while Effie kept a lazy watch. She wasn’t supposed to let her niece play on the floor, she recalled, but the girl had settled there and she looked so happy Effie didn’t have the heart to ask her to move or to scold her about acting like the proper lady a four years old couldn’t possibly be. Her blue eyes were focused on the child but she didn’t truly see her, the cup of tea was forgotten in her hand.

“Euphemia darling, what would you say about…”

The question her mother was planning on asking died on her yellow painted lips when she stepped in the living-room. Elindra took in the child sitting on the rug, creasing her little blue dress, and her daughter’s apathetic demeanor and clucked her tongue.

“Sorry, Mother.” Effie said before she could be lectured at length on her many faults. “I am afraid I am not quite myself today.” She took a sip of tea if only to give herself some countenance but it was long cold and she winced before putting the cup down.

“You have not been yourself for some time now, Euphemia.” her  mother sighed. “Safia dear, if you insist on sitting on the floor like a District person, keep your back straight at the very least! Bearing is key to a young lady.”

The child turned her head but clearly dismissed her grandmother’s rebukes as an inconvenience and went back to piling up cubes. Effie didn’t know what she was building but it looked huge.

“Now, Effie.” Elindra scolded her with as much gentleness as she had ever seen her demonstrate. She even sat right next to her - that was unprecedented. “It is perfectly fine to grieve but…”

“I am not grieving.” she denied instinctively.

She had been _extremely_ careful over not publicly grieving more than was strictly expected of her. Seneca had been a close friend, everybody knew that, and she had been _very_ careful in her interviews about sounding pained and surprised but not completely destroyed by the news. As far as the rest of Panem was aware, she had recovered just fine. She partied every night, she flirted with men in a desperate attempt to stop the gossip rags from telling stories about her and Seneca – or about her and one of the Abernathy brothers – and she was her cheerful bubbly self as soon as she stepped out of her apartment. She allowed herself to relax and drop the mask when she visited her parents’ house because she couldn’t keep it up around the clock and she felt lonely.

It was funny, she mused, how lonely you could sometimes feel when you were constantly surrounded by people all day. She had taken to seek refuge in her father’s study and to borrow books. She didn’t enjoy reading much and most of the forbidden texts were too complicated or referred to too many things she didn’t know for her to follow them clearly, but it made her feel closer to Haymitch.

She hadn’t spoken to Haymitch since the day she had escorted everyone back to Twelve.

No matter how many times she tried, her phone calls wouldn’t get through.

Cinna, she knew, had no trouble reaching Katniss or, occasionally, Haymitch – courtesy of newly appointed Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee. She, herself, could reach Hayden and Peeta just fine although not as often as she would have liked. Yet it was as if someone was keeping a close eye on them and knew exactly when Haymitch was susceptible to answer his phone. It was their punishment, she figured. But it had been five months and she was slowly dying of longing.

“This is a ghastly business from start to finish.” Elindra snapped. “Hanging himself… How utterly selfish.”

“Utterly.” Effie repeated, turning her head away so her mother wouldn’t see the tears shining in her eyes. _Selfish_. That was the right word, she supposed. She had wanted her tributes to win so badly… _She_ had arranged the meeting between Seneca and Haymitch. She had played a role in his death.

She didn’t believe in the suicide theory, not for one single second.

If Seneca had truly committed suicide, there wouldn’t be men in dark suits and dark cars following her everywhere she went.

She had taken it upon herself to cut all contact with Livia – although Livia hadn’t been in touch in some time either – just in case.

Safia dropped the cube in her hand and ran back to them, lifting her little arms in the air in a demanding way that Effie had learned long ago meant she wanted to be carried. She settled the girl on her lap, let her cuddle against her chest and play with the bangles on her wrists. Safia loved bangles and Effie had lost count of the number of her own pieces of jewelries she had gifted the girl with.

“You should not indulge her so.” Elindra sighed. “I wished Lyssa would be stricter with her. Little girls need to be brought up right if you want them to become perfect ladies.”

“Maybe Lyssa just wants her to be happy.” she hummed. “Perfect ladies aren’t always happy, are they?”

Her mother pursed her lips in disapprobation but didn’t comment. She watched for a while as Effie tried to keep up with the running commentary Safia was giving her about something or other and tickled the little girl only to elicit a laugh or two. She loved taking care of her niece and Lyssa was always looking for a babysitter so she was quite content to play the favorite doting aunt.

“You will retire after this season, won’t you?” her mother asked. “Do you remember my friend Helia? Well, her son just got a divorce and…”

“No, Mother.” she cut her off, without bothering with an apology.

“Manners, Euphemia.” Elindra chided her. “And truly! It is plain to see you want a child of your own. You are _not_ getting any younger.”

“I do not wish to have children.” she countered.

She wasn’t close to her mother but Elindra _was_ her mother and she detected the tiny lie all the same. “If this is about Seneca…” 

“This has _nothing_ to do with Seneca and everything to do with all the children I escort to their death every year.” she spat.

“Really!” her mother huffed, her blue eyes darting left and right in obvious dread. “You say the oddest things, darling.”

“Perhaps I do.” she sighed. “I am tired, forgive me.”

Elindra reached out and patted her hand for exactly two seconds – for her mother, it was a record.

“It is perfectly understandable for your nerves to be frayed, naturally.” her mother declared. “You have been exhausting yourself setting up the Victory Tour. How are the preparations going? Will it be a success do you think?”

She rather thought it would be a complete disaster.

New instructions came every day. Unlike other Victory Tours, that one would be rushed, activities in the Districts would be closely monitored and she had been made to understand that the traditional visits of the Districts’ most famous assets would not happen. They were cutting it down to the basics : the speeches and the dinner. She had been specifically told that contacts with residing victors would be strongly discouraged.

“I am sure Peeta and Katniss will enjoy it very much.” she offered. She couldn’t help a smile at the thought of her newest victors. “You would love Peeta, Mother, I think. He is a perfect gentleman.”

Elindra didn’t look inclined to _love_ anyone from a District but they were the latest darlings of the Capitol so she flashed her daughter an indulging smile.

“Perhaps you can arrange for a meeting once they will be in the city.” her mother suggested. “I wouldn’t object to have them over for tea or brunch. You could even bring your other victors if you so wished.”

That was a concession, Effie knew, and one that was made with a polite wince.

She was happy to be distracted by Safia once more. She doubted she would be allowed to bring Katniss and Peeta _anywhere_. And truth be told, she would rather keep them as far away from her family as she could. It wasn’t the children’s fault naturally, but something dangerous was lurking and it was closely linked to the berries Katniss had pulled out of her pocket.

°O°O°O°

The girl came in without knocking, dropped her bag on the kitchen table, kicked a chair and sat down without being invited to.

Haymitch didn’t know if he should be glad she thought herself so at home in his house or annoyed for the constant intrusions. Katniss and Peeta were _always_ coming over, one of them making sure that they never ran out of meat and the other keeping them stocked with bread and cheese buns. Iris had immediately adopted both of them, as well as Prim who often trailed in her sister’s wake, and Aster who was already good friends with Hazelle. Lately, his mother had dropped her attempts at pushing him toward Hazelle because she had now a new potential daughter-in-law in mind. It was lucky Aster was just as uninterested as he was or it would have become awkward really fast.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine this morning.” he scoffed, elbows deep in the sink. He had been told under no uncertain terms to wash the dishes from the previous day and, as usual when Iris wanted something, he had had no choice but to obey. It was the only way to get her to lie down for a little while.

“I hate boys.” Katniss declared, taking out two squirrels from her bag and dropping them on his table.

“Find yourself a girl, then.” he shrugged.

“Stop joking, Haymitch, it’s serious.” she snapped.

He sighed, turned off the tap, dried  his hands on a dish towel and gestured for her to go on. “Come on, then, sweetheart. Hit me up with your sexual identity crisis. It’s not like you have _a mother_ you could talk to. Or _Effie_ for that matter. Or the Undersee girl. Or _my_ mother. No… Drop every embarrassing topic on me.”

That certainly wouldn’t be the first time. She had come to him about nightmares – although it had taken quite a while to actually make her spill what the problem was – and Peeta giving her the cold shoulder and the flashbacks she kept having in the woods…

Katniss rolled her eyes. “What would I call Effie for?”

“I don’t know. Say hi. She would like it.” he offered. And then she could report back to him with news of their escort like Hayden and Peeta did. He had tried to reach her to no avail and he knew, from her rare phone calls with Hayden, that she had enough troubles getting through to Twelve on a good day - something that didn’t seem to stop Cinna from calling every week. Cinna had newly appointed Head Gamemaker Heavensbee in his pocket though. Effie didn’t.

He missed her something fierce.

He knew the last five months had been unbearable for his family and friends: he was moodier than ever, nastier too. Any hint from his mother about Hayden’s secret love life or his lack of one made him so mad he would rather slam the door than listen to any of it. Hayden for some reason didn’t seem to be faring much better than he was. He was withdrawn, tended to spend a lot of time with Hazelle and her kids – Haymitch had noticed that even though Gale had taken to avoiding Katniss, he still visited Hayden regularly even if it involved creeping around the Village to go by undetected by any Everdeen – and generally brooded.

In Haymitch’s opinion, Victory Tour couldn’t come too soon.

“Gale kissed me.” she mumbled suddenly.

And Haymitch had the terrible feeling that someone had poured a bucket of iced water over his head.

“Did anyone see?” he asked at once, already contemplating how much of a disaster it would turn out to be.

“No, it was in the woods.” she retorted. “And that’s not the point, Haymitch.”

“That’s very much the point.” he argued. “Look, sweetheart, I’m sorry but you’re putting us all in danger with your fling. Wait until it all calms down a bit, yeah? In a year or two…”

She scoffed. “It’s not a fling. I don’t even know if I enjoyed it.”

She wasn’t meeting his eyes and he supposed that had been her biggest problem when she had come to him. She was still such a child in so many ways…

“Better not tell Effie when you call her.” he decided.

“I’m not calling Effie!” Katniss shouted. “Why are you so obsessed with her anyway?”

“I’m not.” he grumbled defensively.

“Yeah, you are.” she accused. “Every day it’s _Effie this_ and _Effie that_ …”

“What is going on here?” Iris asked, wrapping her woolen cardigan over her bony frame. “I could hear you screaming from all the way upstairs.”

“Sorry, Mrs Abernathy.” Katniss offered in an apologetic tone. “I didn’t know you were resting.”

“It’s all they will let me do, nowadays.” his mother complained. “Now, why are you two shouting about Effie?”

“I don’t even know.” the girl snorted before he could stop her. “Haymitch’s obsessed. I have to go, Mom’s probably waiting. Enjoy the squirrels!”

She slammed the door behind her on her way out, leaving Haymitch to face the suspicious gaze of his mother.

“That girl’s crazy.” he grumbled, defensive. 

“Is she?” Iris hummed. “I noticed Hayden is feeling _quite_ under the weather since you’ve all come back. And Effie hasn’t called either of us in a while, has she? Do you know if they had a fight? They looked fine to me when she left…”

With a sigh, he turned back to the dishes.

“Mama.” he growled, handling the plates with such brutality he wasn’t surprised when a crack appeared on one of them. “For the last time. _Nothing’s_ going on.”

“You danced with her at the Crowning Banquet.” she pointed out, folding her arms over her chest. “They aired it live, I watched.”

“Yeah, and?” he sneered.

“And you have a history where your brother’s love interests are concerned and I would hate for something unfortunate to happen again.” she declared.

He dropped the plate he was washing in the foamy water, dried his hands again and turned around to face her.

“Effie’s _not_ his love interest.” he countered. “She’s…” He shrugged. “She’s not with Hayden. We told you a thousand times.”

“I know what I see.” she retorted stubbornly. “And _you_ should find yourself a nice girl and settle down instead of preying on your brother’s…”

“Preying?” he cut her off. “I’m _preying_ on Effie ? What am I ? A _fucking_ predator? That’s what you think about me?”

He shook his head and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. There were so many more important things happening than his mother’s obsession for Hayden and Effie’s imaginary love story… Cinna couldn’t say anything on the phone naturally but… He knew things were happening out there.

He instinctively headed north, in the vague direction of District Thirteen and ended up at the old fountain near the entrance of the Village. It had been broken for as long as he remembered. He sat of the edge and rubbed his face, desperately wishing he could have a drink to soothe his nerves. He had made good on his promise to Effie though. Aside for the occasional glass of wine, he hadn’t touched hard liquor in months. It was difficult and unbearable at times because the urge to drink was always there but he had promised her and he was determined to keep that oath.

One month, he told himself, one more month and he could hold her again, bury his nose in her hair and breathe her perfume in.

“What are you doing here?” Hayden asked from afar. “Mama kicked you out?”

His brother was obviously coming back from town, his bag was full of vegetables and jars. 

“Mama thinks I’m _preying_ on your girl.” he snapped back. “I swear I can’t wait to get on that train. The Tour’s going to be hell but at least nobody will be on my case about what I do and with whom.”

“Effie again?” Hayden sighed. “Look, we have to tell her…”

“Yeah, we will.” he agreed. “I just want to wait until things calm down. It’s not good to advertize it now, they’re already on our back.” He kicked a pebble. “’Haven’t heard  her voice in forever.”

He was at the point where he was channel surfing every night only to glimpse her at official events or on a random talk show. She was elusive those days though, more elusive than a winning escort should be.

“Well… You will have her to yourself for a whole month.” his brother offered. “Which reminds me… I’m not coming.”

“Coming where?” he frowned as his brother sat down next to him on the edge of the fountain.

“The Tour.” Hayden clarified. “I’m not coming. I don’t want Mama to be alone for so long and… It’s not my place anyway.”

“What are you on about?” He studied his brother’s face but Hayden didn’t look to be sulking or resentful. If anything he seemed at peace with his decision.

“Look, Haymitch… You got those kids out of there.” his brother said. “You’re their mentor, not me. You know it, they know it and I know it too. They’re nice and all but they’re not my kids. They don’t come to me when they’ve got problems. _You_ made them win.” Hayden chuckled but there was a bitter tinge to it. “Nobody even remembers I was mentoring with you. When they talk about it on TV it’s like you were alone.”

“You helped.” he argued.

“I did the paperwork.” Hayden snorted. “You and Effie, you made those kids. They’re yours. And to be honest, I’m tired of being in your shadow. I need to be my own person, not just Haymitch Abernathy’s brother.”

“You’re pissed at me or something?” Haymitch asked defensively.

“No.” Hayden shrugged. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m less than you. It’s a good thing.”

“If you say so.” he commented, neither convinced nor convincing. “It’s better if Mama’s not left alone anyway…”

“Yeah and I won’t have to hear you and Effie going at it like rabbits on the other side of the wall.” Hayden snorted. “All good.”

_If only…_ Haymitch couldn’t help but think.


	84. Chapter 84

It was snowing and the cars were making such a slow progress toward Victors Village, Effie wished she could have jumped out and run all the way there. She stared through the window at the houses passing by at a snail pace and tapped her feet on the floor impatiently.

Portia, who was sitting next to her, shot her an amused look and briefly placed her hand on her knee to make her stop bouncing her leg. When she realized just how nervous she must have looked, Effie blushed. Still, when the cars stopped right in front of the iron gates, she was the first out. She started giving orders that didn’t need to be given, telling the prep teams and the stylists to hurry to their respective victor, demanding that the filming crew quickly assembled everything they needed from cameras to artificial lighting…

She only rushed to the Abernathy’s household once she was certain everything would go as planned. But when she rushed, she _rushed_. She went directly for the back door, knowing they would most likely be in the kitchen and barely paused to knock before bursting in. It was very impolite and she could tell everyone was taken aback by it but she didn’t care because Haymitch stood from the table, abandoning a half-drunk bowl of whatever it was and before she could say hello, she was engulfed in his arms.

It felt like breathing properly for the first time in months.

He crushed her to his chest, buried his nose in her neck, pressed a discrete but very real kiss on her pulse point and she breathed him in: the familiar smell of cheap soap and clothes detergent Iris always used, the faint smell of sweat… He drew back a little to look at her, his grey eyes bright and so obviously happy to see her she felt herself tearing up.

“You look like a giant snowflake.” he smirked.

“Manners, Haymitch!” she huffed, her voice was rougher than usual. The grin on her lips was almost painful but she could neither stop smiling nor look away.

“Do _I_ get a hug or what?” Hayden asked, after clearing his throat.

Forcing herself to glance at her junior mentor was one of the most difficult thing she had ever done. Leaving Haymitch’s arms for his was almost unbearable. Their hug was quicker and she laughed awkwardly when she stepped away for exactly no good reason at all except that she desperately wanted to run right back into Haymitch’s arms.

“Iris!” she exclaimed, finally noticing the old woman who was still sitting and who was watching the three of them with an obvious puzzlement that soon turned to displeasure. Her grey eyes, so like her sons’, kept darting from her to Haymitch and then to Hayden. When she hugged Effie, she was colder than usual but Effie dismissed it, too eager to accept Haymitch’s offer to come and check the outfit he was planning on wearing.

They barely reached the foot of the stairs before he spun her around and kissed her. For a second, all she could hear was the rush of blood to her ears and then she kissed back aggressively, like she wanted to devour his mouth. His hands were everywhere, trying to get under her puffy dress but failing miserably - because it was from Portia’s collection and Portia’s clothes were never easy to take off. 

“You can still change your mind, Hayden.” Iris’ voice said suddenly, so close both Haymitch and Effie startled guiltily. The kitchen wasn’t so far and the walls weren’t that thick. “I think you should go with them.” Hayden’s answer was too low for them to catch but Iris’ voice rang clear. “Dear, don’t you think Effie wants to spend time with you? I’m sure she missed you.”

Hayden’s voice was exasperated when he replied. “She will have Haymitch and the kids to keep her busy.”

“That is  not what I mean.” his mother insisted.

“Oh, I _know_ what you mean.” Hayden sighed. “And, again, you’re _wrong_ , Mama.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes, grabbed her hand and dragged her upstairs. They started kissing again long before they even stumbled in his room.

“We don’t have time…” she whispered as he locked the door and pinned her against it.

“Oh, yeah, we do.” he growled, tilting her head back to drop kisses on her throat. “I _fucking_ missed you. I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I tried to call…” she murmured.

“Yeah, me too.” he grumbled. “They’re pulling on our _fucking_ leash but _fuck_ if I let them this time.” He bundled her dress up to her waist and tugged on the woolen tights so brutally she was afraid he would rip them apart. “ _Fuck,_ Effie… I missed you…” he whined, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. It wasn’t very romantic but she couldn’t care less, she wrapped her legs around him when he lifted her up and sighed in aching relief when he buried himself deep into her. That was enough to make her content, she realized, feeling him inside her was enough. He must have felt the same way because he didn’t move at once, he simply stood there for a few seconds, his forehead on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair and he started rocking his hips slowly, so slowly she wanted to shout in protest. It was effective though and neither of them lasted very long anyway. She just hoped the noises hadn’t carried to the kitchen.

“Haymitch…” she whispered, her legs still wrapped around him, still pinned to the door by his weight, his mouth still pressed against her neck… “Haymitch, Seneca…”

Her voice broke despite her best efforts.

“I know.” he hushed her softly, slowly helping her down. “Cinna told me. I’m sorry.” She didn’t let go of him even when her feet touched the floor.

“It’s our fault.” she breathed out, biting back the sobs that wanted to escape her.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated awkwardly. He pulled up his pants and buckled his belt and, when he realized she hadn’t moved, he fixed her own clothing for her. Once she was dressed again, he nudged her chin up and passed his thumb over her wobbling lips. “We’re going to get through this, sweetheart, alright?”

She nodded, wishing with all her heart that she could believe him.

She forced her bubbly escort persona back up front, fussing over his choice of suit and playfully batting away the wandering hands he kept resting on her body. She watched as he changed, unable to stop herself from occasionally touching and kissing while he got naked and dressed again. She made sure she didn’t look disheveled when she came back downstairs but Iris gave her one critical glance and pursed her lips.

Effie didn’t linger, hurrying to Peeta and then to Katniss to make sure everything was going well. To her utmost relief, they were still on schedule and she made sure they stayed that way, even when Portia nudged her aside to fix her wig that was slightly crooked.

“Did he like the dress?” the stylists teased, smoothing her puffy white creation.

“I have no idea who you are referring to.” Effie replied, unable to hide her own grin.

“Oh, it must have been good. You’re glowing.” Portia laughed but, fortunately, left it at that.

The rest was a blur. The children made an adequate show of being happy and in love for the cameras, the farewells on the station’s platform were exactly the right side of teary… She took advantage of the crew filming Katniss and Prim’s goodbyes to hug Hayden, noticing in the corner of her eyes that Haymitch was being submitted to a whispered lecture by his mother, and she promised with a laugh to make sure his brother behaved.

All too soon, everyone was on board, the train was leaving the station, and Effie collapsed in a chair, more relieved than she wanted to admit.

“Now, to the hard part.” she sighed when Portia helpfully handed her a pink cocktail. The stylist toasted her silently.

Dinner went well. Everyone was happy to be together again, conversation flowed easily and neither Katniss nor Haymitch threw a tantrum. Effie took advantage of the good mood to pass around schedules, stressing their importance, and to remind everyone of the security rules. A lot of them were brand new and she saw Haymitch frown but he kept his questions until later that night, when he grabbed her on her way to her room and pulled her into his compartment.

“What have they told you?” he urged and she noticed Beetee’s ring on his finger was on the setting that would allow them to talk freely. “What’s happening out there?”

“I don’t know anything.” She shook her head. “All I know is that security will be at its maximum level, as much for our safety as to limit our movements I gather. I have no idea what is happening, Haymitch, but it must be bad.”

His lips were pressed tight against each other and, for a second, she thought he knew more than he was willing to say but his face softened before she could ask. He turned the ring back to its normal, inconspicuous setting, and brushed his hand against her cheek. His fingers trailed on her cheekbone and then up to her wig. He took pin after pin slowly and methodically until the wig gave and her golden hair tumbled down.

“You cut your hair.” he said, running his fingers through the curls. She used to wear them a little below the shoulders but she had cut a few inches so it now barely reached her shoulders. When wet, it was still entirely too long to properly manage but that was the curse of curly hair. He pushed it aside to uncover her neck and pressed a lingering kiss there. “I like it.”

“Please, take me to bed.” she whispered, glad he didn’t have enough time to transform his room into a pigsty yet.

She pressed her lips against his and nudged him toward the bed. The kiss was slow and messy but she didn’t even care because once she had unzipped her dress and slipped his jacket off his shoulders, it was only a matter of getting rid of the rest. They collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs, still kissing, still unable to part from each other, and for several minutes they simply remained that way: naked flesh pressed against naked flesh, mouth stuck to each other and hands holding on to what they could. It felt innocent, _pure_ , and she enjoyed the moment very much.

It was him who rolled her carefully on her back and settled between her thighs, his mouth torturing hers, his hands roaming and worshiping her body in just the right way to make her gasp and whimper. She clawed at his back and, somehow, the rhythm shifted, they became feral, rolling and grasping at each other like animals. She licked and he bit, she bit and he growled… Her climax rippled through her, almost too strong and too quick to be enjoyable. He picked up the pace once she was done, and finally collapsed on her with a  grown, spent.

She snuggled against his side and fell asleep almost immediately, happy at last.

She woke up to the sound of insistent knocking.

“What the hell…” Haymitch muttered. He must have thought she was still sleeping – and she _was,_ mostly – because he was careful not to jostle her as he got off the bed. She watched, her eyelids drooping with sleep, as he slipped on sweatpants, slippers and a heavy dressing gown before opening the door just enough to see who was on the other side. Whoever it was, they wouldn’t be able to see past him and into the room.

There was a low exchange, she thought she heard Katniss’ voice, and then Haymitch left and closed the door behind him. She vaguely thought she ought to get up and check what it was about but she was drowsy, warm, and sore in all the right places; she drifted off once more. She had no idea how long he was gone but she could tell when he came back because the bed was suddenly colder.

“Your feet are icy.” she grumbled, wriggling that little bit further away from him. He didn’t let her though, he spooned her and pushed a leg between hers to warm himself up.

“Took a walk outside with Katniss.” he explained. “It’s snowing.”

“Do _not_ expect me to nurse either of you up if you come down with pneumonia.” she hissed.

“You’re so caring.” he taunted.

“What did she want?” she hummed. “It’s late.”

He remained silent for a few minutes, long enough for her to almost go back to sleep. She fought slumber though, because the way he was absent-mindedly stroking her hipbone wasn’t good.

“Haymitch?” she frowned.

He tightened his hold on her and pressed his mouth against her ear, when he talked, it was so low she could barely made sense of it. “Snow paid Katniss a visit. There are uprisings in the Districts, the kids… They’re symbols now. We have to convince people they acted out of love, not to defy the Capitol or…”

The sentence trailed off but she didn’t need him to finish it.

The children were in danger.

They were _all_ in danger.

°O°O°O°

Eleven was a disaster of epic proportions.

Haymitch only managed to get a glimpse of Chaff, they didn’t let the victors come close enough to talk. Of course, that took a backseat to what actually happened _during_ the speeches ceremony. Haymitch’s blood ran cold during that fleeting second after the old man raised his hand in Twelve’s salute. The Peacekeepers in the room they were waiting in trained their guns on them and it was instinctive to step in front of Effie, Cinna did the same for Portia, but the escort wouldn’t stand for it naturally, she screamed outrage and ranted _and ranted_ , only falling silent when Peeta and Katniss were shoved into the room with them. She calmed down once the kids were back with them but _barely_. Still, he was grateful for her quick thinking, her complaining once he came back down from the attic with the kids distracted them and gave them something to fuss over.

The rest of the day didn’t go much better. Cinna and Portia ushered the kids to separate rooms so they could get them ready for the celebratory dinner, blasting music from whatever stereo they found so they couldn’t hear any more “backfiring trucks”.

Haymitch and Effie heard all six of them.

With so many Peacekeeper and the camera crew lurking, he didn’t dare reach for her. She kept her fake cheerful smile glued to her lips all day and only breathed a sigh of relief once they were all safely back on the train. Katniss immediately excused herself to bed and Peeta followed. Effie didn’t linger long after that.

Haymitch caught Cinna’s eyes and trailed after the stylist when he declared he still needed to do some alterations to one of Katniss’ dresses. He followed Cinna to a car full of clothes and fabrics and leaned against the wall until the stylist turned the sewing machine on.

“You can speak freely.” Cinna declared. “It jams the bugs.”

Haymitch nodded his understanding and folded his arms over his chest, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, still wavering over his decision. Not that he had a choice. He felt the trap closing in on him a little more every day.

“I want in.” he said.

Cinna watched him, his golden eyeliner made his eyes look dark but Haymitch held his gaze, entirely too serious.

“It took you some time to pick your side.” the stylist commented. “Chaff approached you more than a year ago. A lot of people are convinced you’re not right for the job.”

“I want my kids safe.” he growled.

“Katniss, Peeta and your family, yes.” Cinna agreed. “That’s why people think you wouldn’t do a good asset, you have too many things you don’t want to lose. I don’t think we have a choice though and I saw what you can do. You’re clever, you’re a tactician. We could use that. _And_ we could use help with Katniss…”

Haymitch licked his lips nervously. It felt huge, involving himself in a rebellion – even if what Mags had said was true, even with Thirteen at their back… It might have been a good feeling if it hadn’t been for this sense of lingering dread. It was the best way to keep Katniss safe though. He didn’t know what the rebels had in mind for the “Mockingjay” but he wanted a small amount of control over it.

“I recommended you to Heavensbee. Mags did it too.” Cinna went on. “He agreed that if you wanted in, we should let you.”

“One condition.” he said. “My family stays out of this.”

The stylist tilted his head. “We could use your brother… Twelve is one of the only Districts without a resistance network. If we…”

“No.” he cut him off firmly. “Hayden stays out of this.”

“Shouldn’t it be his choice?” Cinna frowned.

“I keep him safe. That’s _my_ choice.” he argued.

“Fine.” Cinna gave in. “Portia is going to approach Effie… We already considered her a few years ago but…”

“I _said_ my family stays out of this.” he hissed. “That includes Effie.”

This time the stylist didn’t hide his annoyance. “She’s a big girl, Haymitch, and from what I’ve seen she would be ready to commit to…”

“I don’t want her to commit to _anything_ that could lead her to being executed.” he growled. “Effie stays out of this or I make sure Katniss will never help you and your friends.”

“I don’t like threats, Haymitch.” Cinna snapped. “And, one word of advice, you shouldn’t threaten Thirteen either. They’re trigger happy.”

“Wonderful.” he scoffed. “So we’re replacing a trigger happy government with another trigger happy one?”

“At least, this one won’t toss children into a pit for them to fight to death.” the stylist retorted. “You played their game for a long time, are you sure you’re ready to switch sides?”

“I was _never_ on their side.” he scowled. All he had ever done was protecting the ones he loved and he didn’t feel like justifying himself. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

Cinna pursed his lips into a tight line. “Effie could be an asset. Escorts have access to…”

“Effie stays out of it.” Haymitch insisted. She would kill him when she would find out, she would kill him slowly and painfully. She had made him promise time and time again not to take decisions for her… Well… It was for her own good. And for his own sanity. There would be six months to go after the Tour before he could see her again and he didn’t want to spend every second of them wondering if she had been caught and hanged for treason while playing super secret spy.

“Has it occurred to you that if you love her so much, it would be safer to let her go?” Cinna asked, more calmly. “You are not exactly Snow’s favorite victor, you know.”

“Yeah, try explaining that to her. Never worked with me.” he snorted and then he shrugged. “I don’t see you keeping away from Portia.”

“Portia and I started this together.” Cinna explained. “And we intend to finish it together. She’s a tough girl.”

“So is Effie.” he argued.

“And yet you won’t let her fight for something I think she would find right.” the stylist pointed out.

Haymitch unfolded his arms and rubbed the back of his neck. “I lose her, I lose everything. I can’t. She keeps me sane.”

Cinna studied him for a few seconds and then his face softened. “I can understand that. If I didn’t have my work… Alright. We will keep her out of this. I’m not sure it’s the right choice but you are more important to us than she is. I will introduce you to some people once we’re in the Capitol.”

The stylist went on rambling about security measures and procedures and Haymitch committed all of them to memory.

It was very late by the time he reached Effie’s room. She was already in bed, the lights were off, and he tiptoed around for a while, getting ready for bed and trying to fight the impulse of helping himself to a glass of whiskey to be able to sleep. He grabbed a book instead and switched on the lamp on his side of the bed. Effie didn’t so much as twitch.

It wasn’t like her to sleep so deeply but he understood when he spotted the little plastic bottle on her nightstand. He wondered if her taking sleeping pills meant he was allowed to have some liquor. To everyone their own poison, after all, but in the end he refrained.

He wanted to be able to hear her if the pills stopped working and she had a nightmare.

He wanted to be able to take care of her.

He wanted to be able to protect her.

That was  lost cause though.

Letting her go… He had thought about it time and time again. If Hayden hadn’t meddled a couple of years earlier, if they had stuck to their break-up… Now he couldn’t resolve himself to it. He needed her, that was the plain and simple truth. They had never truly given themselves a name… _Boyfriends_ and _girlfriends_ seemed too childish and too meaningless compared to what he felt for her. _Partners_ was a good word, he figured. _Spouses_ would have been a better one in another universe.

The truth was she was his other half.

And without her, he would be completely lost.


	85. Chapter 85

Effie was running the brush through her hair so brutally that Haymitch thought she would be bald by the time she finished.

“This is completely inappropriate.” she hissed for the hundredth time. “And improper. And…”

“Is that water or gin in your glass?” he cut her off, nodding to the glass full of translucent liquid forgotten between the half-empty bottle of sleeping pills and the pot of anti-age cream in front of her. From her seat at the dressing-table, she glared at him in the mirror.

“Did we exchange roles without me noticing?” she retorted. “It is _water_. And I _need_ the pills, Haymitch. I cannot afford to go without sleep right now.”

Haymitch leaned back against the pillow, kicking the covers off with his foot in his annoyance. The argument was an old one. He didn’t like her using pills. When she started using them, she popped them like candies. It was addictive and dangerous and it was far too easy to slip.

“Yeah, well, I need a drink and I don’t see you letting me have one.” he pointed out.

She averted her eyes but he saw her pursing her lips in the mirror. “It is different.”

“Is it?” he insisted.

That Victory Tour would kill them. Every day, it was getting more and more stressful. The Districts were in obvious uproar, everywhere they went there were executions in their wake – they managed to mostly hide them from the kids but there was no hiding anything from _themselves_ – Katniss and Peeta weren’t convincing enough, Effie’s speeches were good but every time Katniss tried to praise the Capitol’s glory it came out mechanical and fake… It was all a mess and Haymitch was scared about what would come _after_ if Snow decided they simply were more of a bother than strictly necessary.

Effie was shouldering most of the pressure. She was the one organizing everything, she was the one writing the speeches for him to review, she was the one supervising the good running of the Tour, she was the one smoothing ruffled feathers every time one of them annoyed a Peacekeeper, she was the one taking most of the vitriol coming from Katniss… Everything was on her shoulders. He helped where he could, so did Cinna and Portia, but she was incapable of delegating what she felt was her responsibility and so she was exhausted.

He watched her bare face, devoid of make-up, and mused that he had never seen her looking so tired. There were bags under her eyes, she was pale and he would never _ever_ ask, because he knew he would have been at risk of being beheaded, but he thought there were new lines on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes.

“Fine.” she snapped, tossing down the hairbrush with none of the care she usually showed. “No more pills. I will probably keel over in a few days and then _you_ will have to deal with everything on your own. Are you happy?”

“Can’t say I am, no.” he scoffed. “Look, one pill is okay. But not every day. And not two at a time. And not with gin.”

“It _is_ water.” she countered.

“It wasn’t yesterday.” he pointed out.

“Yesterday was bad.” she argued, standing up and slipping off her dressing gown. She placed it on a chair and crawled on the bed to snuggle against his side.

District Eight had, indeed, been a bad day. Cinna had told him it was the most organized District as far as the rebellion went and, clearly, the Capitol must have had an inkling because they had been allotted a Peacekeeper each and the soldiers had kept poking them with guns when they hadn’t been walking fast enough. Cinna and Portia had looked nonplussed by that but Effie had obviously been rattled.

“It’s almost over.” he sighed, hoping to comfort her.

“Is it?” she whispered. “Because I can see we are not doing a good job, Haymitch.”

He sighed again and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. He wished he could reach Twelve but he hadn’t been allowed access to a phone yet. He had asked every Mayor of every District and had been denied. He hoped his mother and his brother were alright.

“To go back to the subject at hand, it cannot go on.” she declared, sitting up to look at him. “They are still _children_ , they are _unmarried_ and under _my_ care. It is absolutely improper for them to share a bed and they are _teenagers_ , Haymitch, I do not share _at all_ your confidence that all they do is sleep.”

“Peeta doesn’t lie, sweetheart.” he argued. “If he says he hasn’t touched her, I believe him.”

She folded her arms over her chest – which was unfortunate because it brought his attention to her red lacy nightgown, he lazily reached out and placed a hand on her waist – and she tilted her head. “I _do_ hope you made sure he knows how to use a condom, at least ?”

“Best conversation of my life.” he winced. “I gave him a few too, just in case. But, seriously, Effie, they’re _just_ sleeping. You heard how she screams… It calms her down.”

“I offered her sleeping pills. She says they do not work.” she confessed.

“They do nothing for me either.” he shrugged.

“Your nightmares are not so terrible anymore.” she hummed.

“When you’re here.” he said. “It’s better when you’re here. Same goes for the girl, I figure. She feels safer with him.”

He saw her resolve slowly crumbling at that quiet admission.

“Do you feel safer with me?” she asked, her lips twitching in that telling way that meant she was fighting off a grin.

“Maybe.” he snorted, without committing to anything, fisting the nightgown. “’Don’t feel safer with that thing on you… How about you take it off?”

“You are _obsessed_.” she accused.

“With you.” he corrected. If he was obsessed, it was with her and only her. He didn’t want any other woman. He didn’t care for anyone who wasn’t her. He was hooked on the smell of her skin, on the taste of her lips…

“Ah, I forgot you only become soppy when you want to get into my pants…” she chuckled.

“I will show you just how soppy, I can be, Princess.” he challenged, pulling her on top of him.

Her laughter rang out clearly in the room and, for a while, they managed to forget about everything.

It didn’t last long.

There was no forgetting for long on that train.

With every new District they hit, the situation looked more dire. It was Katniss who suggested getting engaged. It was a good plan, as far as Haymitch was concerned, but it didn’t mean he was happy with how hard Peeta took it. Or Effie for that matter. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask because he felt it was a topic better left undiscussed but he could tell she didn’t like it. And, perhaps, she was a little bitter too.

Their stay in the Capitol was limited to a week according to Effie’s schedule and the days were crammed with interviews, public appearances, parties, and official events. The security measures were slightly less strict in the city and Cinna took advantage of it to introduce him to some people. Heavensbee seemed nice enough for a Gamemaker but Haymitch wasn’t the trusting type and it took three meetings before he relaxed around the guy. They were planning on taking advantage of the Quell to act. He wasn’t sure he liked what Plutarch had to say about President Coin.

There wasn’t enough time to discuss anything in depth anyway.

His time was stretched short. When he wasn’t with Peeta and Katniss, he was giving interviews of his own with Effie - or recording interviews that would only be released closer to the Quell. He simply _loved_ revisiting his Games fifteen times a day, switching outfits before starting all over again, just so they could keep the pretense he had sat down for different meetings…

“I don’t get why we couldn’t do that later.” he grumbled as he and Effie walked toward Main Square. Not only were they forcing him to record things for the Quell, they had to do it _elsewhere_ than at the Games compound because most of the talk show sets were in another part of the city. “You could have come to Twelve with a crew or they could have made me come back here. I _fucking_ need a drink.”

One of the interviewers had asked him about Maysilee and he hadn’t been able to stop his hands from shaking ever since.

“I have no idea.” she offered. “They said it would be more convenient.”

“My ass.” he scoffed.

“ _Language_ , Haymitch. Really…” she huffed. “We are in public.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t showered me with _special_ _appointments_ yet.” he went on, noticing her bristling but choosing not to comment on it. “I’m sure they could make good money. Every old tart in this city is going to want a piece of the only living Quell victor’s ass. You, Hayden and the kids are going to have to do everything next season, I will be too busy _fucking_ my way through…”

“Would you _stop_?” she scowled, and quickened her steps.

He felt a flash of guilt but buried it deep. He wanted to reach out, to grab her hand or toss an arm around her shoulders, but they were surrounded by people and that wouldn’t do. They had managed to keep the press off their back and he couldn’t undo it by publicly being too friendly with her.

“Sweetheart…” he sighed.

“Don’t _sweetheart_ me.” she snapped.

“Fine.” he spat.

For a while, they walked in silence, bypassing Capitols who looked more ridiculous than the next, not bothering with their public personas. If anyone was surprised to see Effie Trinket glowering and Haymitch Abernathy in an obvious dark mood, nobody tried to remark on it. It was only when they reached the Square and she caught sight of one of the giant screens propped all around the city that she relaxed. Katniss and Peeta were doing a live joined interview and, clearly, they weren’t doing so bad. Katniss’ smile still looked forced to him but perhaps it was because he knew the girl better than anyone now.

“I wish Hayden was here.” Effie sighed. “It would have been easier. I hate leaving them without proper supervision.”

“They have Cinna and Portia.” he muttered, still annoyed. “Let’s get out of here.”

The crowd was compact and he hated that. They crossed the Square as quickly as they could without stepping on any toes – well, _Effie_ tried not to step on anyone, Haymitch was happy to stomp on every nearby foot. They were almost on the street that would take them back to the City Center when something very small, very pink and yellow, billowed straight into them. It crashed on Effie’s legs and held on for dear life with a joyful scream of _“Aunt Effie!”_.

It was only _then_ that Haymitch realized the small pink and yellow _something_ was actually  a little girl in an awful puffy dress with her hair – natural still – pulled up in an equally puffy hairdo tangled with probably all the ribbons in the Capitol.

“My darling!” Effie exclaimed in delight, crouching down to give the child a hug. “Where is your mother?”

The mother, he supposed, was the Capitol woman quickly approaching them with a bright smile on her blue painted lips. She had the same blue eyes as Effie, a quick glance told him the child shared that family trait.

“Effie!” the woman happily called out. Haymitch watched, with unabashed curiosity, as Effie stood up and exchanged air kisses with her sister. It was the first time he met anyone from her family. “I _do_ apologize, she saw you and there was no holding her back. You know how she is…” The woman turned to him and extended a hand clad with heavy-looking rings. “I am Lyssa, Effie’s sister, and you are Haymitch, of course.”

Dazzled by the beaming smile and the straightforward introduction, Haymitch shook her hand and glanced at Effie who was busy nodding seriously at whatever the kid was babbling about. It turned out the girl was admiring one of his escort’s golden bangles - a golden bangle that was swiftly removed from her wrist and handed to the child who slip it on cheerfully even if it was a hundred times too big for her and kept slipping off.

“You spoil her.” Lyssa rebuked her sister but it was obviously not a big problem to her because she turned back to Haymitch. “I have been _dying_ to meet you but Effie simply _refused_ to invite you for brunch…”

“Haymitch is a busy man.” Effie interjected quickly. “And _you_ are a _married_ woman. How is dear Rufus?”

The warning was clear even to Haymitch and he smirked when she, not so subtly, looped her arm under his. There was a lot of competition between the two siblings, he had gathered that from the rare times she had talked about her family.

“Splendid.” Lyssa grinned, her blue eyes darting back and forth from her sister to Haymitch. “Oh, by the way! You should be ready for a lecture. Mother is _furious_ you have not yet called her.”

“My hands are full lately.” Effie replied tersely. “Tell her I will call once the Tour is over.” Her face softened when she glanced at the kid still holding fast to her dress with one hand and playing with her shiny new bangle with the other. “And I will take Safia to the amusement park, shall I?”

That suggestion was approved by happy screams from the child. A toddler was _loud_ – and still that girl wasn’t as loud as Posy Hawthorne who enjoyed shouting directly in his ear when she wasn’t forcing Hayden to play with her dolls.

“She wants you to confirm you will come to her Quell announcement party.” Lyssa declared, rolling her eyes. “It is still three months away but you know Mother… She is determined to make it _the_ place to be.” Her fake feather eyelashes fluttered and she flashed her sister an amused smile. “Perhaps you could bring Haymitch? It would _certainly_ give some style to Mother’s party if she had the Quell victor attending… And I am _certain_ she would _love_ it if you showed up with a _date…_ ”

“Enough teasing.” Effie hissed through gritted teeth. “You are not funny, Lyssa.”

The Capitol woman grinned but any of her potential replies was cut off by the child tugging on Haymitch’s pants at knee level. His eyebrows shot up and he looked down at the girl, a little surprised to realize she looked like her aunt too. It wasn’t just the blue eyes, it was the nose and something in her expression: the petulant demanding look of a spoiled brat.

“You look funny.” the child – Safia, he, at least, knew that because as discreet as she was about the rest of her family, Effie couldn’t shut up about her niece – declared in a high pitched voice. “Are you poor?”

Lyssa laughed out loud at that, although he detected a touch of embarrassment in her chuckles, but Effie was beside herself.

“Safia!” she chided her. “You cannot ask that sort of things.”

The girl looked nonplussed. “Why? He looks funny.”

“Because it is rude!” Effie scolded her. “What would Grandmother say, I wonder!”

“She is just a child, Effie.” Lyssa cut in, still laughing. “I do not think she ever saw anyone without dyed hair or a wig, that is all.”

“Still…” his escort insisted and while she ranted about proper behavior, in a lecture that would probably have made her mother proud, Haymitch crouched to be at the same height as the kid.

“I look funny to you ‘cause I don’t live here.” he explained.

The kid furrowed her little blond eyebrows. “There’s only here.”

“No there’s not.” he snorted. “There’s the Capitol and the Districts.”

“What’s that?” she asked, toying with her golden bangle.

“That’s… places around the Capitol.” he said. “I live in Twelve. That’s _very_ far away.”

“And everyone is funny there?” she insisted with open curiosity.

“Yeah.” he shrugged.

“Grandmother says only poor people don’t look pretty.” Safia replied.

“Safia!” Effie hissed for the second time, stopping herself mid-rant. “That is rude. You might hurt someone’s feelings if you tell someone something like that.”

“But Grandmother says so…” the girl retorted.

Haymitch straightened up, deciding the way she was struggling with “grandmother” was cute. It sounded more like “ _Grawmoser_ ”.

“Grandmother is not always right.” Effie snapped. “Apologize this instant.”

“It’s fine.” Haymitch waved that away.

“No, it is _not_.” she scoffed.

He glanced at Lyssa but she was simply standing there, slightly displeased but obviously unwilling to get involved. It was _her_ kid but she didn’t look in any way interested in educating her. He had seen it enough times in the Capitol: people made kids, paraded them around and gushed over them and then handed them back to nannies who were supposed to raise them up. It was messed-up in his opinion.

“Sorry.” the girl crooned with wobbly lips – and it sounded more like “sowy” but Haymitch stopped himself from smirking, instinctively guessing the child was too much like Effie and would bristle at any hint of him mocking her way of talking. She looked a little shy all of a sudden. “I hurt your feelings?”

“Proper sentences, Safia.” Lyssa demanded, firm at last. “You are not a street ruffian.”

Haymitch couldn’t say he was surprised _that_ was what Effie’s sister was adamant about correcting.

“Nah.” he told the kid. “’Takes a lot to hurt my feelings.”

The child giggled. “You talk funny too! I like you!”

“Breaking hearts everywhere you go…” Effie sighed but given her amused smile, he knew she was teasing. She checked her watch. “I am afraid we really _must_ go though.”

He waited while she exchanged more air kisses with her sister and hugged her niece one last time and then they were gone, walking once more at a brisk pace toward the Center where Katniss and Peeta were waiting.

“I am _terribly_ sorry about that.” Effie apologized halfway there. “My mother… Well, let’s say she has very  particular ideas about educating young ladies and Lyssa lets her do as she pleases with Safia.”

“It’s fine.” he offered again and then, after a few seconds. “She’s cute.”

“Isn’t she just?” Effie beamed at him. “She is _precious_. I wish…”

She stopped abruptly and he pretended he didn’t notice. He thought he had a good idea about what she wished but that wasn’t something he was willing to give. And certainly not _now_. For a second, he let himself imagine they could actually pull that rebellion off… For a second, he let himself think about a life without Snow breathing down his neck, without Games threatening everything he held dear… _If_ they were safe, absolutely _perfectly_ safe, and if she wanted it _really_ badly… But he shot down that train of thoughts before he could even start imagining things more clearly. There was no use chasing chimeras.

He turned the conversation to the party at Snow’s mansion instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do they look more and more like an old married couple or is that a feeling? ;) Let me know your thoughts!


	86. Chapter 86

Rory had done a better job with the geese than Haymitch had done with the kids during the Victory Tour.

The final Banquet in Twelve had been over for a little over an hour, the camera crew was still packing up on the Square under Effie’s close supervision but Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch had escaped the party as soon as they had been able to without raising comments. For one thing, he hadn’t been overjoyed at being forced to sit next to the Mayor and his wife all night. Every time he looked at her, all he saw was Maysilee.

The night was dark despite the fact that his house, his brother’s and the Everdeen’s were all lighted up. He could hear the rumble of different voices in the street on the other side of the house, as they tried to figure out the sleeping arrangements. His mother had already informed him it was out of the question his and his brother’s friends would sleep on the train and had also told him that Effie would stay at Hayden’s since they would probably want to catch up. The way she had said _catch up_ had made him smirk both in fondness and annoyance. Iris was probably the most stubborn woman he knew but he was so happy to see her again he was ready to ignore her obsessive ideas about his brother and their escort.  

He wanted to tell her about him and Effie because he was tired of hiding it like a dirty secret. The timing wasn’t right though and he suspected it never would be.

“We lost one.” Hayden said, coming through the kitchen door with two glasses. He handed him one and kept the other for himself. “There was a fox. Gale caught it but it was too late for that goose.”

“It’s alright.” he shrugged. “I think I’m going to sell them anyway.”

If they actually did this and there _was_ a rebellion, the geese would only be casualties.

Hayden shot him a surprised look and took a sip of his glass. Haymitch imitated him, almost expecting to taste water. Apparently, his return warranted some brotherly love because his glass was full of Ripper’s best moonshine. He lifted his eyebrow at Hayden who only rolled his eyes. “Only one glass. You won’t ever find the bottle anyway.”

“Still paying Ripper so she won’t sell me any liquor?” he tried.

“Yeah.” Hayden grinned. “Best solution ever. I wished it was mine but it was Peeta’s.”

“That boy is a nuisance.” he snorted.

They drank in silence for a while, listening to their mother’s voice explaining in the distance that they would be housing Cinna and that Effie and Portia could stay over at Hayden’s. They were waiting for the two Capitol women who were still at the square but Cinna seemed happy enough to chat with Iris for the time being.

“How bad was it?” Hayden asked after a while.

Haymitch didn’t ask how his brother knew. It would be obvious to any victor who had watched the Tour that something was wrong: the Tour had been cut short, the visits of the Districts reduced to minimum, there had been no footage of mentors laughing together for the good reason that they hadn’t let Haymitch see anyone, and no victor had been called back to the Capitol for the duration of the Tour. Those were signs already. Added to that was the fact that Hayden knew him and Effie very well and that he had probably picked up on the stress and tension from their body language alone.

There was no point lying about it.

“Bad.” he admitted. “It’s a powder keg. Crack a match and it will explode.”

He kept to himself that it was what Cinna, Plutarch and most of the people he had been introduced to were hoping for.

“I want to say it’s a good thing.” Hayden sighed. “’Cause it _should_ be but we can’t win this. The Districts… We can’t win.”

He downed the rest of his glass but didn’t answer that. Plausible deniability, it was called. If Hayden knew nothing, they couldn’t hold it against him. Haymitch was walking on a thin line.

“How’s Mama?” he asked instead, feeling a switch of topic was in order.

“Not better, not worse.” his brother said. “She’s fine as long as she gets enough rest. Aster’s herbal teas help.” Hayden finished his glass in two long mouthfuls and snickered. “She spent the _whole_ time asking me if I regretted not going and pointing at Effie on TV and asking me if I didn’t think she looked pretty in whatever dress she was wearing. Hazelle _loved_ it.”

“I bet.” he chuckled. “You could tell Mama about you and Hazelle. Maybe she would stop giving me the stinky eyes every time I go near Effie.”

“There are the kids to consider.” Hayden pointed out in such a measured voice that Haymitch understood the debate was old and obviously not leaning in his brother’s favor. “It’s not like we’re serious anyway. It’s companionship.”

The kids… Hayden had practically been raising her kids for five years… He certainly was the only father figure little Posy had ever known, Vick trailed after him like he was the biggest hero to walk the earth, Rory thought no one was cooler than _Uncle Hayden,_ and he was using all his mentoring techniques on Gale all the time – he had even gone hunting with him once or twice. Granted, Haymitch didn’t think any of the kids knew what _Uncle Hayden_ was actually doing with their mom – if Gale had known there would have been punches involved, he figured – but he also doubted they would care much. The kids had been good for Hayden, Haymitch wasn’t enough of a moron to not see that.

As for their relationship being only companionship…

“Bullshit.” he commented, leaning against the pen. The planks creaked under his weight. It either meant he should start exercising or strengthening the pen.

“Yeah.” Hayden laughed, a little bitter. “Try to tell her that.”

He studied the strained smile on his lips and then shook his head. “Women are a pain, baby brother, and ours are the _worst_.”

“That’s why we love them, no?” his brother scoffed.

He answered that by a smirk and a half-shrug.

“So…” He let his sentence trail a little, his ears perking up when he heard the high-pitched voices of Portia and Effie joining Cinna’s and his mother’s conversation at last. “You think Mama’s going to keep watch downstairs with the poker or what?”

“I would go through the window if I were you.” Hayden replied matter-of-factly. “Better not to take any chance.”

“I’m too old for sneaking out through windows.” he pointed out.

“Are you too old to get busted?” his brother retorted. “’Cause I can tell you right now, that’s what’s going to happen.”

_Damn_ him, he had a point. Iris had an uncanny gift to tell when her boys were planning to sneak out to meet a girl, it had worked to their disadvantage plenty of time during their teenage years and no amount of one of them trying to cover up for the other had ever triumphed over her superpower.

“I’m an adult.” he grumbled. “I’m _fucking_ forty.”

“It’s your own fault, really.” Hayden scorned. “If you hadn’t slept with so many of my girlfriends she wouldn’t be scared you’re going to rob her of her only chance at getting grandkids.”

Again, he had a point.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” he declared, years too late probably. Hayden glanced at him but since Haymitch had no desire to go into such heavy stuff at such a late hour when they had just come back from a Tour from hell, he chose to focus on the important topic. “Grandkids?”

“She’s knitting baby clothes.” Hayden wriggled his fingers into quotation marks. “ _Just in case_. I told her Effie didn’t want kids. She was disappointed.”

“No kidding.” he snickered. “And it wasn’t enough to put her off the idea?”

“Nope.” his brother told him, making the _p_ pop. “But she doesn’t like the way Effie acts around you. She says I should be more attentive to her ‘cause trust is all well and good but a girl’s head is easily turned if she thinks she’s taken for granted.”

“How nice that she can still give completely unhelpful advices when it comes to girls.” he smirked, amused.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” Hayden chuckled.

They stayed silent for a few more minutes, listening to the sound of the familiar voices that the geese’s honking couldn’t cover. It was cold and they would need to go back inside soon. Haymitch still needed to figure out how he would go from his room to his brother’s house undetected by his mother – and he _still_ thought it was ridiculous for a forty years old to have to _sneak_ out of his own house – because there was _no_ _way_ he wouldn’t spend that last night with Effie. It wouldn’t be six months this time… There was a photoshoot planned for Katniss’ wedding dresses… Only three months. It was a lot but they had done worse. And maybe they would be allowed to phone now… He seriously doubted that but… One could hope.

“Something’s going to happen, isn’t it?” Hayden asked.

“What?” he frowned.

“You want to sell the geese.” his brother accused. “You love those birds.”

It was hard to tell the birds’ outlines in the dark.

“They’re just birds.” he scowled. “They’re too much trouble.”

And so was his Mockingjay.

It was a shame he loved the girl, it would have been easier to chunk her with the geese. 

°°O°°O°°O°°O°°

The second Portia wished them all goodnight and went upstairs, Effie breathed out a sigh of relief, placed down her untouched glass of moonshine – absolutely disgusting, the fumes were enough to bring tears to her eyes – and toed off her shoes before lying down on the couch, cushioning her head on Hayden’s thigh.

“Tired?” he joked, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Exhausted.” she whispered, not bothering to put up a front anymore.

She could feel the exhaustion in her every bone. Since she had been denied access to her sleeping pills – and she knew Haymitch had a point about that, she _knew_ , but it was still hard not to resent him for it – she had barely slept, a couple of hours here and there and that wasn’t enough to fight the stress and the dread that were accompanying her every step. They hadn’t cut it. Nobody had told her anything and she had acted as clueless and bubbly as humanly possible with so little sleep but she knew whoever needed to be convinced by the children’s act hadn’t been. She knew because the security had been upgraded instead of being relaxed. She also knew because Haymitch divided his time between hushed conversations with Cinna and brooding sessions. Never mind Katniss’ edginess.

“Hayden?” she asked. She could tell her friend was alarmed by how frail she sounded but she couldn’t bring herself to be the strong one this time.

“Still here.” he snorted, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Can you be my big brother for a minute and tell me everything will be alright?” she requested. “Lie to me.”

There was a second of hesitation and then his hands were working on her wig, taking out pin after pin. He lied all the time it took to get it off her head and toss it on the coffee table without enough care. She didn’t leap in defense of her wig though, she was too sleepy and too content to pretend she could believe in his lies. He told her everything would be fine and she was just overworked, that there was no reason to worry, that everything would go back to normal soon... He was massaging her scalp and it felt entirely too good. She almost envied Hazelle and immediately decided that Haymitch should ask his brother tips about giving massages because he never gave her one and it seemed like a shame.

Her eyes fluttered close, she curled up a little more... She should have gone up to bed but she wanted to wait for Haymitch. Hayden had said he would find a way to come over without their mother knowing – and, yes, she thought that was ridiculous but they had more urgent problems than explaining their relationship to Iris.

She drifted off, not completely asleep but not completely awake either.

“Did you go through the window?” Hayden asked at some point and the question made no sense to her.

“Almost broke my _fucking_ neck.” Haymitch’s low rumble of a voice answered his brother. “Maybe I should take a picture of you two. Mama would probably have it framed and hung over the fireplace.”

“She fell asleep.” Hayden said apologetically. She felt him shrug.

“’M not asleep.” she slurred, fighting to open her eyes.

“Sure, you’re not, Princess.” Haymitch humored her. She felt herself being lifted up and instinctively wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and breathing his smell in. She felt good, _safe_.

She always felt safe around Haymitch.

“I love you.” she mumbled. 

“Sleepy Effie is in a sharing mood.” Hayden teased from somewhere behind them.

“Shut up.” Haymitch retorted but she felt lips being pressed against her forehead and that was enough for her. “’Night, baby brother.”

“Goodnight.” Hayden replied. “Try to remember me and Portia are next door, yeah? Keep it low. I don’t need any more traumas.”

There was no answer to that, just the soft clicking of a door awkwardly being shut with a foot. She felt herself being placed down on the bed and she curled up on her side, ready to dive into deep slumber for good. Her dress was unzipped and slid off, her bra was unhooked... She tried to be helpful but she mostly remained unresponsive while he helped her undress and then tried to slip her nightgown on.

“Leave it.” she muttered, pushing the silky fabric aside, knowing it would come off at one point anyway. Sleeping naked would eventually gain precious time.

The last thing she was aware of was him settling behind her and then she was asleep. Birds were already chirping next to the window when she woke up and the pale light of dawn was trickling through the half shut curtains. Her eyes roamed around for a clock, too lazy to move and look properly – she should have, they were on a schedule and there would be hell to pay if they were late but she figured that if she _had been_ late, Portia would have come and fetch her. And Haymitch’s arm was wrapped around her waist, one of his legs was sandwiched between hers and she could feel his regular breathing against her nape coupled with the occasional snore. She enjoyed the feeling for a few minutes more, toying with the idea of falling back asleep.

She trailed her nails up and down his forearm slowly, mentally making a list of everything she would have to do as soon as she would be back in the Capitol. Calling her mother was at the top of the list – not because she truly fancied it but because she would suffer a longer lecture if she didn’t – then there would be paperwork to handle, the next year to prepare for... She wouldn’t have to hunt for stylists that year which would be a good thing but there was the photoshoot for Katniss’ wedding dresses to think about, the actual wedding to start planning...

“Stop thinking, it’s bad for you.”

She smiled at the roughness of his voice and burrowed deeper into him, noticing another part of him was awake and eager. He seemed content to ignore that for now though, he simply tightened his arm around her waist and brushed a kiss against the back of her neck.

“I wish I could stay here.” she sighed.

Because that was what she was reduced to: wishing she could bury herself in the poorest District, where hot water wasn’t always a given and electricity sometimes didn’t work for days, out of love for a man. Her mother would cringe and probably say it was pathetic and she had raised her to be more than that. Years earlier, Effie would have agreed but now she knew she couldn’t have the best of both worlds and Haymitch trumped everything else in her life.

“You will be back in no time.” he rebuked, more for her benefits than his own. “You’ve been with me nonstop for a month, aren’t you sick of me already?”

“Are _you_ sick of me?” she countered with a frown.

He let out a big sigh, there was yearning there. “I wish.”

She untangled their legs and turned around in his arms. “So we say goodbye again...”

“For now.” he tempered.

“It’s been six years.” she pointed out. And when she said that aloud it sounded like an eternity. How weird was it that, put together, they probably hadn’t been together _together_ more than a year, a year and a half? She was tired of saying goodbye.

“You wanna stop?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His face was soft, earnest. She knew that if she truly wanted an out, he would give it to her without a fight, not because he didn’t care for her but because he cared too much. 

“Of course not.” she whispered, leaning in to steal a kiss.

It didn’t take long before he rolled on her. Their lovemaking was slow and, she felt, almost desperate. Their hands remained entwined on the pillow the whole time and when her climax rippled through her, her sight was blurred by tears. Some rolled down her cheeks, he kissed those away and buried his face in her neck, biting down on her skin when he came. He tried to move away so he wouldn’t crush her but she tightened the grip of her legs around his waist to keep him where he was just a little while longer.

“I love you.” she whispered.

“You say that a lot lately.” he commented, pressing a kiss against her lips.

She did. Because their relationship was hard and she needed the reminder and because she suspected he needed to hear it just as much as she needed to say it.

“To make sure you never forget even when I am not here to say it.” she riposted.

“You deserve more.” he murmured, staring at her neck instead of looking at her in the eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”

“I am not.” she smiled even if it was a tiny lie. “It makes what we have even more precious.”

He snorted at that but the kiss he pressed on her lips erased some of the bitterness.

“You’re everything.” he mumbled against her cheek. “Tell me you know that.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

“And you don’t forget it when I’m away.” he ordered. “You hang on to that, sweetheart. And if anything... If anything happens to me, you keep knowing that but you move on. Don’t cling to the memory of me like I clung to Mabel’s, it’s... It’s not what I want.”

She frowned and pushed him away, suddenly _very_ wary. “Why would anything happen to you exactly?”

“I need to get back before Mama comes down.” he mumbled, gently extracting himself from between her thighs.

He could have lied to her, he could have pretended it was all about the state the Districts were in and Snow being angry with him and about everything being more or less as usual. He eluded instead and that was how she knew he was hiding something - something he didn’t want to tell her because of his misguided idea that she needed to be protected at all cost. She wasn’t stupid. She could add two and two together : he was on speaking terms with the other victors again, his mistrust for Cinna had thawed from one day to the next, they kept having whispered conversations, the Districts were in uproar and everyone was looking at Katniss like she was their savior...  

She watched as he quickly put on his clothes, wrapping her arms around her legs and propping her chin on her knees. “Do I want to know?”

Because if he _was_ involved in what she suspected to be a rebellious movement...

“No, Effie.” he said. It wasn’t an answer to her question but rather to the unspoken one: did he want her to join.

“Does Hayden know?” she insisted.

“No.” he snapped, putting his shoes on without bothering to button his shirt.

“You are protecting us.” she deduced. “If you want to protect us, it is _bad_ , Haymitch.”

“Or I’m just paranoid.” he scoffed. “There’s enough reasons to be, don’t you think?”

He came back to peck her mouth and mumbled something about seeing her at breakfast and then he was gone like they weren’t about to part for three long months.

She flopped down on her back, pressed her hands against her eyes and repeated to herself calmly that she was Effie Trinket and Effie Trinket _didn’t_ have panic attacks.

It was unladylike.


	87. Chapter 87

Haymitch found his brother in his living-room, lying down on the couch, an exhausted five years old asleep on top of his chest. He thought he was sleeping too at first but Hayden’s eyes fluttered open when Haymitch sat in one of the armchairs.

“How’s Gale?” his brother asked immediately.

“Still pretty out of it.” he winced. “Hazelle’s spending the night at Katniss’ again. She says if the kids are trouble...”

“Rory and Vic are asleep upstairs.” Hayden countered, waving that away. “And Posy finally settled down. She’s clingy since... Just... Let me get her to bed.”

Haymitch nodded and watched, impressed, as his brother managed to get himself upright, the little girl safely in his arms, without waking her up. It was practiced and he wondered just how many times he had done that with Hazelle’s kids: putting them to bed, taking care of them... Certainly a lot in the last week.

Gale’s wounds were healing slowly, thanks to Aster’s care, but everything else was going to _shit_. The Hob was gone, the whipping pole had found a brand new use and Peacekeepers were terrifying people again. Haymitch had grown comfortable with Cray, Darius and the lot of them. He had forgotten how vicious some of them could be. Thread was a prime example of what power could do to a man.

He had never been more terrified in his life than when he had seen the man flinging that whip at Katniss’ face. Jumping between the two, despite all his survivor’s instinct had to say about it, hadn’t even been a decision he had consciously made. He would have taken a thousand lashes for the girl. He had had a few in his time, for poaching, but he had been young and the Peacekeeper in charge had been lenient. The scars were long gone now. Gale’s would never fade.

It was the first step.

He had had to go through Undersee to have Katniss’ photoshoot rescheduled.

Communications with the Capitol were still restricted. Katniss still managed to talk to Cinna but that was it. Haymitch’s phone didn’t seem to be in working order and he had almost tore it off the wall in frustration the other night – he would have if his mother hadn’t stopped him. He _needed_ to hear Effie’s voice, to know she was alright... He also needed to talk to the stylist even though nothing could be openly said. Cinna still found ways to keep him informed by slipping details to Katniss: a shortage of products from this District, a mechanical failure in the factories of that one... But Katniss was starting to figure everything out, she was talking about running away, about Thirteen...

And all he could do was _lie_.

You would think he was used to it but he still wasn’t. Even after all this time, all the lies he had fed his family for years... He still hated lying. It came easily. But he hated it.

“Sorry.” Hayden said, coming back from upstairs. “How’s Mama doing?”

Between Hazelle, Gale and the kids, Hayden hadn’t been around very much in the last week.

“Same.” he shrugged. “I think she needs to be checked out by a doctor. A Capitol one.”

“That’s not happening any time soon.” his brother sighed.

“No.” he scoffed. “She says if you need help with the kids, you can bring them home or she can come here.”

“I’m good.” Hayden said. “Posy’s clingy. She’s scared. She wants to see her brother, she keeps asking, but...”

The sentence trailed off.

“Not a pretty sight for a five years old.” he finished for his brother.

“Yeah, she already has nightmares about it. I don’t want her to get even more scared.” he winced and then rubbed his face. “God, I wish I could kill that man...”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one.” Haymitch leaned back and closed his eyes. He could still see the whip lashing out at Katniss. He had been too far to stop the first hit and when he had jumped in front of her... There had been this tiny second of terror that it wouldn’t be enough to stop Thread, that Katniss would still end up tied up to that pole and whipped to an inch of her life. That, maybe, it had been Snow’s plan all along. It wasn’t just them though, the whole District seemed ready to murder him. He was cruel and remorseless. He was the kind of Peacekeeper who got off in causing pain.

“I mean it.” Hayden spat with so much hatred Haymitch opened his eyes again and looked at him. His brother was pacing behind the couch, his hands clenched into fists. “I should have been there. I should have...”

“You couldn’t have stopped it.” Haymitch offered, in an attempt at comforting him.

“But _you_ did.” his brother laughed bitterly. “It’s always the same story, isn’t it? You always do what I can’t do. You made Katniss _and_ Peeta victors, you saved Hazelle’s boy...”

“That was mostly Katniss.” he cut him off. “And that has nothing to do with us. It’s not about you and me, Hayden. It’s bigger than that.”

“I would kill that man.” Hayden growled all the same. “Those kids... They’re _family_ , Haymitch.”

“Yeah.” he agreed calmly. “But there’s nothing...”

“No, you don’t get it.” his brother cut him off. “You have Katniss and Peeta, I have Gale, Rory, Vick and Posy. You have Effie, I have Hazelle. What you would do for yours, I would do for mine. Everything. _Anything_. And they come first. Maybe that’s horrible to say, but they’re mine and they come first.”

They stared at each other in silence for a while.

Haymitch was the first to look away.

“Effie and the kids don’t come first...” he said quietly.

“Don’t they?” Hayden challenged.

And he realized that, lately, maybe they did.

And was it so surprising? He loved the kids, yes, but he also felt responsible for them on a level he had never felt responsible for anyone else except maybe Hayden in his youth and Finnick later on. He felt it was his duty to protect them. And he didn’t want to lose them, that was a given. As for Effie... Effie had given him something from the start that his family had been withholding for years when they had met: unconditional acceptance, support and love untainted by judgment. And he loved Effie. Maybe he couldn’t tell her in as many words but he loved her to the point she was essential to his life and if he ever lost her...

“You heard from her?” he asked, feeling a change in subject was in order. “I still can’t get through.”

“No. I can’t get through either.” Hayden shrugged. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. If anything had happened, Cinna would have found a way to tell us.” he said, as much for his brother’s benefits as his own. “And they would let me know. I don’t see the point of hurting her if they don’t let me know...”

Except the forced silence was already punishment enough.

“We can’t go on living like that forever.” his brother snapped. He wasn’t angry at him, Haymitch mused, but he was tired of feeling helpless. “They’re terrorizing everyone, they’re threatening to close the mines! How are people going to feed their families? They answer every crime with their _fucking_ whip... We can’t live like that, Haymitch. I feel like a trapped animal. I feel like I’m back in the arena.”

“Don’t you get it?” Haymitch snorted. “We _never_ left the arena.”

“It can’t go on like this.” Hayden insisted. “What’s the next step?”

“I don’t know.” he sighed.

And he was afraid to find out.

°O°O°O°

She buzzed Portia in and immediately went back to her couch. Her coffee table was overflowing with bridal magazines, wedding planners, and off-cuts of fabric. Haymitch would have mocked her for half a century probably but it was never too soon to organize a wedding and she was determined to see this one through even if it would be her last year as an escort.

There was a knock on her front door but she didn’t bother getting up again. “Come in, dear! It’s open!”

She didn’t even look up from her list of potential florists when Portia sat down beside her on the couch. Floral arrangements were key to a successful party or so her mother had always claimed...

“Do you think tulips or roses?” Effie hummed. “Do we go for conventional or do we bring a touch of fantasy into it?” She sighed. “Oh, and do you think Haymitch would like to give Katniss away? I am _sick_ of those phones malfunctioning. He is the children’s mentor, we should be planning this wedding together.”

“Effie...”

Portia’s voice was soft and the hand she placed on her arm alarmed Effie.

“What is it?” she frowned. She had grown to know the stylist very well in the last year and Portia had become a beloved friend. She could read her easily enough and her set jaw, the tightness at the corner of her mouth...  “Something happened. What happened?”

She knew instantly that it would be a disaster.

“Something happened, yes.” the stylist said quietly, squeezing her arm.

“Who?” she breathed out. “The children? Haymitch? Hayden?”

Amazing how her list of priority was exposed, she thought.

“No, they’re fine.” Portia hurried to reassure her. “It’s... Your friend Livia? Six’s former escort?”

It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice over her head. She hadn’t seen or talked to Livia in over a year. She had figured her friend was keeping her distance to protect her and she had done the very same thing.

“We are not _such_ good friends anymore.” she heard herself say dismissively, a forced smile finding its way to her lips. _Bugs_ , there were bugs. And she knew what Portia would say. Of course, she knew. Livia had been involved in the same thing she now suspected Haymitch to be involved in. And they had killed Seneca for less.

The stylist wasn’t fooled. She squeezed her arm again.

“She committed suicide earlier.” Portia said.

Effie closed her eyes briefly, unwillingly remembering Livia’s gentle eyes and her laughter. She had been her first friend in the Games business, she had showed her the ropes, she had always been there for her. She had been her best friend for years and now...

“That is unfortunate.” she replied. Her voice was light and it asked no effort at all on her part. What had she become that she could act so easily when someone she had loved so much was dead ? “But, as I said, we were not friends anymore. Now, what do you think of those tulips...”

Portia played the game she wanted her to play, chatting with her about wedding details for about an hour. Effie was distracted but her mouth seemed to be running on without her brain. At some point, the stylist sighed and declared she was in need of some fresh air so Effie led her to the balcony.

“Are you alright?” Portia asked, as soon as the doors were closed behind them.

There were no bugs there but she didn’t ask how Portia knew that. Maybe it was a known fact that they only bugged the inside of flats and not the exteriors.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“I told you...” the stylist said.

“Do _not_ give me that.” Effie snapped. “I only _act_ stupid, it does not mean I am dumb or blind. I know enough to guess at what is happening and I know you and Cinna are involved.”

“I’m not supposed to tell...” Portia winced, biting on her bottom lip.

“She was my best friend.” Effie growled. “ _What_ _happened_?”

The stylist watched her for a few seconds and then shook her head.

“They had been suspecting her for some time now.” Portia explained. “They came to arrest her and she flung herself out the window before they could catch her.”

Effie closed her eyes and pressed her wobbly lips together. “Why?”

“I couldn’t say because I am not involved in anything and as far as I’m concerned _nothing_ is happening, do you understand me?” her friend insisted. “But I _imagine_ she would rather die than risk giving names under torture.”

_Torture_. 

Effie shuddered.

She couldn’t imagine it. She couldn’t imagine enduring it or doing anything that would warrant enduring it.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Portia offered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Please, do not get yourself killed.” Effie whispered. “And do not get Haymitch killed.”

“Effie...” the stylist cringed, obviously not happy about the extent of her knowledge.

“I am not stupid.” she repeated. “You all act as if I were blind but I am not stupid and you are not half as discreet as you think you are.”

“He doesn’t want you involved.” her friend confessed. “Cinna and I, we wanted to bring you on board but Haymitch refused.”

“Good.” she said. “He was right. I am not brave enough to throw myself out of windows.”

“I don’t think it was why he refused.” Portia pointed out.

“We do _not_ talk about _that_.” Effie hissed. “It does not exist any more than your rebellion, do you understand?”

The stylist nodded, looking sad.

She had no business looking sad.

It was _Effie_ who was at risk of losing everything, not _her_.


	88. Chapter 88

They arrived in Twelve for the photoshoot three weeks earlier than planned.

Of course, Effie was stressing about the tight schedule because they wanted to show the pictures of Katniss’ wedding dresses _before_ the Quell announcement which meant they only had four days ahead of them and it didn’t leave much room for unforeseen events. She had arranged everything so they would spend, at least, a night in Twelve - there was _no way_ she would go to his District and _not_ steal some time with Haymitch.

As far as that plan went, it was a failure for now.

She let the prep team and the stylists go to Katniss and sneaked to the Abernathy’s house but she only found Iris, Hayden and a little girl in the kitchen. Iris was busy teaching the child how to bake something that Effie thought to be cookie dough. 

She was welcomed with the same warmth as usual though and it was good to see them, so she hugged Hayden tight.

“Who is that?” she asked, looking curiously at the little girl. She must have been around the same age as her niece, she estimated.

“I’m Posy!” the girl exclaimed cheerfully, looking her up and down with open curiosity. “You look weird.”

She was strongly reminded of Safia and how puzzled she had been by Haymitch’s style. Thinking of her niece made her smile and she wasn’t as vexed as she could have been by the child’s assertion. After all, what would a five years old from Twelve know about fashion?

“She’s Hazelle’s daughter.” Hayden explained, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder, just as proud as if he had declared she was his own.

“I get to stay with Uncle Hayden today.” Posy explained very seriously. “Because Mama’s doing the cleaning upstairs and he promised he would play dolls with me. Rory and Vick never want to play with dolls and Gale can’t because he works with the grown-ups now.”

“And Gale is Hazelle’s eldest, right?” she asked, trying to make sense of it all. “Katniss’ friend.”

“We’re cousins now.” Posy happily replied, tossing a generous amount of nuts in the dough. “I don’t know how you get cousins because we weren’t before but now we have to say we are. How do you get cousin with someone, Uncle Hayden?”

“It’s complicated, love.” Iris answered before his son could.

The girl shrugged, unperturbed by that statement. “Anyway, Gale’s not Katniss’ friend, he’s her cousin. We have to say it when people ask. It’s _important_.”

Effie didn’t even try to bite back her grin. “Don’t let her near any camera, please.”

Hayden made a face at her that warranted a swap from the cloth his mother kept at the belt of her apron.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked. “We weren’t expecting you for a few weeks yet...”

“Change of plans.” she declared. “Where is Haymitch?”

She had resisted long enough before asking. She must have sounded a little too expectant because Iris clicked her tongue and not so subtly nudged Hayden - who didn’t pay her _any_ mind.

“In town.” he said. “I will go get him. What do you say, Posy? You’re up for a stroll?”

“Don’t you want to catch up?” his mother frowned. “You two should go for a walk, I will keep an eye on Posy.”

Posy was overjoyed by the prospect of a stroll though, and there was little to do faced with an excited five years old. They both tacitly decided to avoid an argument with Iris and left together even if Effie stopped at Katniss’ house on the way. Her absence hadn’t been long but that had been enough for technicians to slack and she had to boss people around so they would stay on schedule. Soon enough, they were rolling though.

The photoshoot was difficult.

Katniss wasn’t used to posing and her temper didn’t suit the activity. The girl soon grew bored and tired and even Cinna’s magnificent dresses didn’t improve her mood. The fact that every dress was so complicated to put on and had so many accessories didn’t help. The prep team was quick and efficient but they were soon behind schedule and, despite Effie’s advices and tips about modeling, Katniss was unhelpful. They had to shoot most of the pictures twice more than necessary.

Katniss’ mother remained mostly in the kitchen, out of sight, but Prim ran around, helping as much as she could. She was resourceful and Effie soon had her trailing after her with her schedules, the list of dresses and everything else she needed. Prim made a perfect little assistant and she was obviously having fun – more than her sister in any case.

Iris popped in when they were wrapping up the second dress, asking if she could watch. Effie had no problem with that and, soon enough, she had not one but two assistants.

“Hayden isn’t here?” Iris frowned at some point. “I thought he would stay with you.”

“He is not back yet.” Effie hummed, checking the pictures from the photographer’s monitor while Katniss changed. They were good, not _spectacular_ , but good. “He’s gone to fetch Haymitch.”

Iris pursed her lips.

“Could you get me a glass of water, dear?” she asked Prim who quickly nodded and hurried to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. The ploy wasn’t subtle. “Effie, I wouldn’t want to speak out of turn but I feel I _must_ say something...”

“Iris...” she winced.

She didn’t go much further than that because the front door opened so brutally she was almost scared it had been ripped off its hinges.

A bright smile appeared on her lips as soon as she saw him.  She smiled so hard, she was so happy, it almost _hurt_. He made a beeline for her and he looked so focused she thought, for a second, that he would kiss her and _hell_ to anyone who could see... Hayden was right behind him, Posy on his shoulders, but she barely registered that.

She wasn’t aware of walking toward him but soon she was halfway to the door and his arms were around her. They were being _so_ obvious, she thought.

“Hi, sweetheart.” he whispered against her neck.

“Hi yourself.” she stupidly giggled, tightening her hold on his shoulders.

The hug was lasting too long and she was acutely aware that everyone was staring. Even Katniss was watching them with a frown and she wasn’t the most observant girl in the world...

“Told you I would find him.” Hayden joked, to cut through the tension.

Effie tore herself from Haymitch’s arms, unable to shake off her smile.

“You did.” she confirmed, and, because he was near and everyone was looking, she pressed a kiss on Hayden’s cheek. Then she fussed over Katniss and kissed her cheeks too, loudly complaining of being too emotional because of the wedding, making a show of getting misty eyes faced with the wedding dress. That seemed to convince almost everyone.

She forced herself not to pay her victors any attention, focusing on Katniss and the pictures, but between the fourth and the fifth dress, she found herself being dragged to the kitchen by Portia who was craving coffee. Katniss’ mother, Haymitch, Hayden and Iris were all sitting there, making small talk. Prim had disappeared some time ago to babysit Posy who insisted on ‘helping’ Katniss and Cinna with the ‘pretty’ dresses. The girl had had the stylist wrapped around her finger in less than five minutes, which Portia had declared to be impressive.

There were no chairs left but Portia didn’t let that deter her. Waving away Aster’s offer to go fetch more from the dining-room, she perched herself on Haymitch’s lap. Portia was an easy-going woman and they were all quite friendly with each other after living through that Tour. There was no ambiguity anywhere but Effie resented it all the same.

“ _Aw_ , don’t be jealous, sweetheart...” Haymitch teased, more amused than he ought to be.

“I am certainly not _jealous_.” she huffed. “Why would I be?”

She spared an annoyed look for Portia but her friend was grinning, clearly enjoying forcing her to do ridiculous things.

Hayden saw it coming and sighed, pushing his chair further away from the table so she would have room to sit. It was extremely uncomfortable and she was too old for that sort of antics. She stole Hayden’s cup of tea while she was at it and immediately cringed after taking a single sip. Too much sugar.

“You’re spending the night, yeah?” Haymitch asked. “You’re staying with us. Cinna and Portia can go to Hayden’s.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for us to house Cinna and for Portia and for Effie to go to Hayden’s?” Iris cut in firmly.

“Here we go.” Hayden coughed, close enough to her shoulder that she was sure nobody else heard it.

“No, it wouldn’t.” Haymitch retorted. “Effie’s staying with us.”

“That’s fine with me.” Hayden shrugged. “If that’s good with Portia and Cinna.”

“You won’t hear any complaining from me.” Portia laughed. “The train is comfortable but it doesn’t compare to a real bedroom.”

“What do you say, Effie?” Iris insisted. “I’m sure you would rather stay with Hayden...”

“I cannot say I mind one way or the other.” she lied with a charming smile.

“That’s settled then.” Haymitch decided, reaching out to squeeze her hand. That was quite an open gesture and that made his mother frown. The frown only deepened all afternoon. Effie felt her grey eyes following her every time she talked to either one of her sons, studying her, _judging_ her.

It was almost a glare when Effie took Haymitch aside to give him the book her father had instructed her to pass along. It was another forbidden volume and she wished the two of them would be more careful but Haymitch looked pleased by the gift and so she kept her misgivings to herself.

“You really need to introduce me.” he snorted. “He doesn’t seem bad for a Capitol.”

She swatted his arm and avoided Iris’ pointed look.

It was late by the time they were done with the photoshoot and, as a consequence, the dinner they shared in the Abernathy’s kitchen was quick. Effie was relieved by Hayden’s and the stylists’ presence. She could feel the tension increasing with each passing minute. When they retired for the night, she exchanged kisses with Cinna and Portia as was the Capitol way and, because he was next to them, she also kissed Hayden’s cheek. When she turned around, Iris was watching.

“Would you help me with the dishes, dear?” her victors’ mother requested - so _tersely_ , Effie didn’t dare refuse despite the fact that it would probably ruin her manicure.

“I’m going to feed the geese.” Haymitch said, clearly not picking up on his mother’s tone. “I’ll be quick.”

He rested a hand on Effie’s shoulder as he passed her by and, she figured, that didn’t help her case with Iris. _At all_.

At first, it was silent – and since Effie hated silence, she tried to chat about nonsensical things, like the knitting show Iris loved on TV, while wiping the wet plates Iris handed her. Then, the older woman cleared her throat and Effie knew from her experience with her own mother that it meant she was in trouble. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I can’t say I like it much.” 

“Nothing is happening, Iris.” she sighed.

“I won’t let you toy with my son.” the District woman said. “I thought you were trying to make him jealous at first. And I can’t say I agree with that but men can be so oblivious at times... I told myself, _fine_. Pitting Hayden against Haymitch is never a good idea, but _fine_ , that will certainly make Hayden be more attentive.”

“Iris, you _really_ have the wrong idea here.” Effie insisted but she was dismissed by a wave of a soapy hand.

“Hayden is a good boy.” Iris said.

“He is.” she agreed quickly. “But we told you times and times again we were simply _friends_.”

“He loves you.” Iris accused, handing her a plate so brutally Effie almost dropped it. “You are good for him. Ever since he met you... You are _good_ for him and he loves you.”

“And I love him.” she admitted. “But I am not _in love_ with him. I never was.” She reached out and grabbed Iris’ hand under the soapy water. “Nothing _ever_ happened between Hayden and me, Iris. I swear. I never tried to pitch your sons against each other.”

“They fought about you at times.” Iris insisted. “You can’t tell me they didn’t.”

“No, I can’t.” she confessed. “But they fought _about_ me, not _over_ me. I... I do not love Hayden like that, Iris. I am sorry, I really am but I _don’t_. And he _knows_ it and he is _fine_ with it, I promise you.”

Effie studied her, waiting for a reaction, but the grey eyes remained glued to the dishes she was handling.

“I know you are disappointed.” Effie went on. “But we have always been good friends, you and I. And... I think you know that...” She hesitated. She hadn’t talked about it with Haymitch and Iris was _his_ mother, it wasn’t her place to tell her about them but...

“You are infatuated with my other son and he is partial to it right now, yes, I know.” Iris nodded, handing her the last plate and shaking her hands over the sink before wiping them on another dishtowel. “And you should know that if you act on it, it’s something that Hayden will never be able to forgive.”

She placed the plate down still wet, a little annoyed. “Frankly, I do _not_ see how it would be any of Hayden’s business. Or yours, for that matter. I love you, Iris, I _really_ do. You have been a dear friend and I consider you family but I think I have been _more_ than clear about my feelings for Hayden and you are being very unfair to me right now.”

Iris pursed her lips and leaned a hip against the kitchen counter to look at her, arms folded over her chest.

“Perhaps, I am.” the older woman admitted at last. “You could have made him happy. That’s all I ever wanted for him.”

“I am certain someone else will do that better than I ever could.” she countered.

“Maybe.” Iris sighed. “But I _do_ love you, Effie, that’s why I’m so concerned about what you are doing with Haymitch.” Her victors’ mother averted her eyes, staring at the floor instead of looking at her. “A mother shouldn’t say these things, or even _think_ them, but Haymitch is too much like his father, dear.”

“He is _nothing_ like his father.” she snapped coldly. “And I cannot even _believe_ you would...”

“The boys’ father was charming.” Iris cut her off. “He was everything to me. He told me I was beautiful and I believed him. He told me I was different from every other girl he ever had and I believed him. He cheated on me but he told me they didn’t mean anything and I believed him.” She shrugged. “He couldn’t help himself, he said.”

“Haymitch is _not_ like that.” she whispered, horrified by what Iris was saying. She understood it was kindly meant. Iris was trying to warn her because her own heart had been broken but...

“Isn’t he?” the District woman scoffed. “Do you know how many girls I saw him with on TV? How many _women_? Do you know how many times he stole a girl from his brother just because he could?” She shook her head. “It’s all a hunting game to him, dear, and you will only be his next trophy.”

“Iris, if only you _knew_...” Effie said, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“What should I know? That you love him?” Iris said gently. “I can understand that. I loved his father. But trust me, Effie, passion isn’t everything. You can be happy with someone you love but are not _in love_ with. You can’t be happy with someone like Haymitch or his father. They will destroy you.”

“Iris...” she tried again but movement at the door made her fall silent. How long had he been standing there?

“It’s nice to know what you _really_ think of me, Mama.” Haymitch chuckled, so bitter and dark that Effie didn’t even _think_ before crossing the kitchen and going to stand at his side.

“Tell her.” Effie pleaded. “She doesn’t understand. _Tell her_.”

Haymitch’s eyes were pained but she wasn’t surprised when he shook his head no. He brushed his fingertips against her cheek and forced a mild smile on his lips.

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” he lied. She could _see_ through the lie to the pain underneath and she wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. “Go to bed, I’m coming in a minute.” He glanced at his mother and snorted. “The cat’s out of the bag now, you can go directly to my room. No more sneaking around.”

“Haymitch...” she begged.

“Go, sweetheart.” he repeated. “Please.”

She pursed her lips in displeasure but pressed a kiss against his mouth, not caring what Iris saw or not anymore.

“I love you.” she whispered in his ear before reluctantly leaving them alone.

°O°O°O°

The echo of those three words was all Haymitch heard for several minutes. His mother certainly didn’t seem in any hurry to break the silence.

He had heard enough of the conversation to have a good idea of what had been going on. He vaguely entertained the thought that it could have been avoided if they had just told Iris the truth earlier but then chased the regret away. That wouldn’t change the fact that she thought he was a lying, cheating, womanizing drunk like his father.

“You know...” he said, closing the backdoor slowly. “You’ve got some _nerves_ to say I’m like _him_. ‘Cause if that were true, I would have taken off a long time ago.” He dropped the bag of grains on the table. “I wouldn’t have risked my neck poaching in the woods to put food on the table. I wouldn’t have done everything I did for Hayden...”

“I’m grateful for everything you did for us.” Iris sighed. “You are a _good man_ , Haymitch, I never said you weren’t. And I _love_ you, you should never doubt that. But the fact remains that you’re not...” She sighed again and then reached for him. He avoided the contact. She looked sad but resigned. “You love me and you love your brother and you love Katniss and Peeta, I know that. And I do believe you love Effie in some way but you haven’t _loved_ _a woman_ since Mabel died. Your heart is broken, Haymitch, and it kills me but it’s the truth.”

“And that makes me alike this piece of _shit_ our father was _how_?” he spat. “’Cause I enjoy a drink now and then? Did he stop for you? ‘Cause _I_ stopped for _her_. _That’s_ how much she means to me.”

His mother’s eyes filled with tears but she stubbornly blinked them away. He hated himself for that but they were too far gone now. They never discussed his father. _Never_.

“He stopped a thousand times.” she breathed out. “Sometimes he held out for months, sometimes only a few hours.”

He hadn’t touched a drop since Hayden had welcomed him with a glass after the Tour. And before that, he hadn’t touched Ripper’s moonshine in _months_. And he had felt so _happy_ with himself, he had enjoyed Effie’s proud smile and Hayden’s friendly claps on his shoulder so much... It almost made enduring the nightmares sober worthwhile... _Their love_ made it worthwhile. And those words... Those words destroyed _everything_. They made everything meaningless. Like an already lost war, a doomed cause.

“You’re _unfair_.” he laughed and his laugh was broken.

She reached out again but he stepped back.

“Haymitch...” she pleaded.

“ _No_.” he snapped, louder than he had intended to. “What is it even to you what I do with Effie? So _what_ , Hayden’s good enough for her but _I_ ’m not? Just say you love him more, it will be quicker.”

“I don’t love him more.” Iris denied even louder. “I love you both the same way.”

“You’re a liar.” he accused. “’Cause Hayden’s the good son, the one you’re proud of. Me, I’m just the District’s _joke,_ the _disappointment_.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” his mother growled. “I love you. And of course I am proud of you. You brought those children back.”

“That’s all you’re proud of? My mentoring abilities?” he taunted. “ _Fuck_ , Mama, it’s good to feel loved.” 

“What do you want me to say?” she shouted back. “How many women were there, Haymitch? _How many?_ How many drunken brawls? How many sex scandals? How many escorts have you slept with and then kicked out of their job? I’m _your mother_. Do you think I enjoyed spending all those years in front of the TV, wondering what stunt you would pull next? _The Capitol playboy_ , that’s how they used to call you. Do you expect me to be proud of that?”

_Tell her_ , Effie had begged. 

He laughed instead.

“How long before you get tired of Effie?” she asked, in a softer voice. “She’s a _good girl_ , Haymitch. She deserves...”

Iris stopped but he heard what she didn’t dare say.

“Hayden.” he sneered. “She deserves _Hayden_.”

“She doesn’t deserve to be treated like you usually treat your affairs.” she tempered. “None of them deserves the way you treat them. No woman does.”

She was talking about all those Capitols. Those women who _had paid_ for...

“Yeah? There were a few men too.” he chuckled. “What do you make of _that_?”

It was good to know he could still shock her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but he didn’t let her speak. He was tired of hearing her and Hayden belittling his every choice.

“I gave up _everything_ for you.” he snarled. “I gave up _everything_ for this family and that’s _enough_. I don’t care what you say, I don’t care what you think, I’m not giving Effie up, you hear me? Maybe she would have been happier with Hayden, maybe she deserves more than me but she wants _me_ and I’m _not_ giving her up just because you wanted her to be the perfect wife to your other son!”

He stormed out, not willing to hear anymore, and slammed the kitchen door shut behind him only to find himself face to face with Effie. She had heard everything, it was plain to see. Her eyes were shiny but she wasn’t crying, she rarely did, he loved that about her. She opened her mouth and it occurred to him he didn’t want to hear what she had to say either. She would only tell him his mother was wrong and that if only he explained about the appointments... He didn’t want to hear that. He knew she was right and that, if Iris had had all the cards, her opinion would have been different but no man wanted to tell his mother he was a whore and that was something Effie could never understand.

The kiss was aggressive and took her by surprise. She didn’t respond at once and when she did, it was tentative and soft, a clear attempt at slowing him down. He wasn’t interested in _slow_. He devoured her mouth, he groped her and pushed her against the wall and he wasn’t sure what he would have done if she hadn’t shoved him back.

“Not _here_.” she whispered.

He had half a mind to do it there if only to aggravate his mother but he nodded once and bolted up the stairs, leaving her to follow or fall behind. Her choice.

He was a bit relieved when she chose to follow. He slammed his bedroom door shut behind her and started kissing her again, tearing at her clothes.

“Slow down.” she requested when he almost ripped her dress in two.

“I want you.” he growled.

“To make a point to your mother?” she asked, not without sarcasm. “You do not need to mark me like an animal. I am yours.”

And she _was_.

Why was he getting so worked up about everything? He had always known his mother didn’t approve of him or his lifestyle. He also knew Effie had a point when she said thing would have been different if she had known the whole story. It wasn’t _that_. It was...

He stopped trying to get her naked and rested his forehead against hers.

“I’ve given up _everything_ for Hayden.” he murmured angrily. “Everything. I’ve always done it. When he was cold, I gave him my clothes. When he was hungry, I gave him my food. I’ve _always_ given him everything he needed, _wanted_. I’ve given up my _fucking_ dignity for him. But I won’t give _you_ up. And I don’t care if it’s selfish.”

“Haymitch, despite what your mother thinks Hayden does _not_ want me.” she told him softly.

“I know.” he admitted. “ _Fuck_ , I know. But it pisses me off that she thinks I should just hand you over like I don’t deserve something good too.”

“She does not mean that.” she countered, running her fingers through his hair in that soothing fashion of hers.

“You’re my chance at being happy.” he spat more harshly than he intended to. “And maybe it’s not fair that I get one but you’re here and I won’t give you up. I will go down fighting.”

“You won’t go down at all if you do not want me to kick your ass.” she hissed.

Her sudden vulgarity made him snort and he pulled back long enough to press a long kiss on her forehead. “I love it when you talk dirty, Princess.”

Her lips twitched but she looked terribly serious when she brushed the hair out of his eyes. “We should have explained everything earlier and in a civilized fashion.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” he scoffed. “You’re her dreamed daughter in law. Just not with me. You heard what she said, no? You deserve _better_.” He turned his back on her, unbuttoning his shirt just to give himself something to do. “She’s right though, you know? You _do_ deserve better than a man-whore.”

“Do _not_ call yourself that.” she sighed. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her cheek against his shoulder blade. “I do _not_ see you like that.”

“You see me like a victim.” he accused in a sneer. “Not better, sweetheart.”

“I see you like a survivor.” she retorted. “I see you like a brave man who had to make the most of awful odds. I see you like someone who is scared but will still do the right thing. I see you like the man I love. I see _you_.”

He closed his eyes and placed his shaking hands on her arms, gripping her wrists for dear life. They remained like that for the longest time. Somewhere in the house, he could hear his mother making the usual round of shutting blinds and locking doors.

“Let’s go to bed.” Effie suggested, letting go of him. “I have to get up early. They really want those pictures to be ready for the Quell announcement.”

_The Quell._

Another thing he wasn’t impatient about.


	89. Chapter 89

“You’re ever going to tell me what’s going on?” Hayden hissed, as Haymitch banged cupboards open and closed in the kitchen.

He didn’t even know what he was looking for, something to keep his family off his back maybe. Ever since the Capitols had taken the train back, there had been a cold war in the house. He still talked to his mother, naturally. He _loved_ his mother. But when he talked to her, he was harsher than usual and he didn’t bother hiding his resentment. She had tried to apologize but he hadn’t wanted to hear it.

Hayden grabbed his arm, preventing him from slamming yet another cupboard door shut. “Haymitch, _fuck_.”

In the living-room, he could hear Caesar commenting on the different wedding dresses, asking Cinna’s opinion now and then.

“She found out about you and Effie?” Hayden insisted. “And what? She threw a fit? I can talk to her if you want. I can explain...”

“It doesn’t matter.” he snorted, shrugging his brother’s hand off.

“Like hell, it doesn’t.” Hayden scoffed. “Look, I will talk to her, okay? I will make clear we were never a thing...”

“She still wouldn’t think I’m good enough for her.” he cut him off bitterly. “I’m not _you_ , see?”

He walked back to the living-room and flopped down on his armchair, grabbing his book back and ignoring both his brother, his mother, and Caesar on the screen. It was only when that was done and Panem’s anthem boomed out that he remembered they were supposed to announce the Quell. He wondered what they had invented for that year. Heavensbee hadn’t been sure yet during Victory Tour and Cinna hadn’t known when they had talked the previous day. All he knew was that they were talking about acting _during_ the Quell, maybe going as far as attacking the arena... Haymitch had some ideas already and he was impatient to pitch them to Plutarch.

He tuned out the speeches, staring at the prints of his book without seeing any of the letters. It was a good one, he would need to find a way to thank Effie’s father. Maybe send a book of his own.

“ _And now we honor our third Quarter Quell_.” Snow said, making a show of grabbing the envelope stamped with a 75. Haymitch hoped it wouldn’t be about expanding the tributes’ age. He and Chaff had thought about that and, with his luck, they would end up with two kids under twelve. He put down the book and stared at the face of the man he hated most on earth as he read on without hesitation. _“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder...”_

°O°O°O°

_“And now we honor our third Quarter Quell_.” President Snow declared, before taking the envelope stamped with a 75 and making a show of opening it.

Effie leaned against the wall and folded her arms over her chest. Her parents’ house was packed with people. Elindra had wanted it to be the party of the year and it probably was. There were a few Gamemakers who were speculating about what the Quell would bring – the arena had been in the design for years but even the Gamemakers didn’t know what would happen – a lot of potential sponsors she had been at pain to court all evening, her sister and her brother-in-law were excitedly exchanging bets in the corner, her father had fled the party for his study an hour earlier and her mother was bustling around making sure to be seen.

“Attitude, Euphemia.” Elindra chided her, coming to a stop at her elbow. Effie instinctively stood straighter and unfolded her arms. She grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and took a sip as the President finally pulled out a creamy white sheet of paper. She hoped it wouldn’t be too dire. Haymitch had a theory about age possibly being lowered and, with their luck, she would reap two ten years old. She wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Someone requested that they turned the volume up to cover the excited whispers in the room. Lyssa obliged.

_“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest amongst them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors_.”

There was a long silence.

Or perhaps it was Effie who momentarily went deaf.

In the split second it took the room to explode in exclamations – some of joy, some of protest – she managed to convince herself she had heard wrong. When everyone turned toward her, asking her opinion, commiserating with Peeta and Katniss’ lack of luck, trying to drag her in debates over why it was the best idea versus the worst, all she could do was fight to remain on her feet. She was dizzy. _Shocked_.

“Excuse me.” she murmured, placing the flute down on an expensive mahogany sideboard that her mother had polished every two weeks. She was sure a lecture would be coming about that at some point and then she almost laughed because...

“Too much champagne.” Elindra giggled, excusing her to the curious and worried whispers that followed her exit from the room.

She fled to the nearest bathroom.

She almost didn’t reach it in time.

Her stomach churned and she found herself throwing up. She hated throwing up, that was why she’d rather limit herself at a table rather than use the purging drinks.

_Male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors._

That meant Katniss for certain.

And that meant...

Her head was spinning and she started heaving, her sobs wrecking her body. There was a knock at the door and then, against every rule of correct manners, Elindra stepped in and locked the door behind her. She stared at Effie who could only stare back, her shoulders shaking with the strength of her sobbing, making those whining noises her mother had so much hated in her childhood. She realized she was in a right state and Elindra would resent her ruining her party: she was sitting in such a way that she was certain her mother had a good view of her panties, her face was dirty, her make-up was running, she was making a scene and _she didn’t even care_ because...

“Now, now.” Elindra sighed, reaching under the sink for a towel. To Effie surprised, she passed it under the tap, flushed the waste before closing the toilet’s lid and hauled Effie up by the arm so she would sit on it. She roughly dabbed at her mouth with the towel. “I hope this is nerves and you are not pregnant. I dare say now is not the time for such folly.”

She shook her head no, unable to talk. She was sure she wasn’t pregnant, she was always careful about that.

“Well, that’s a relief.” her mother declared, tossing the soiled towel in the hamper and grabbing another one to try and salvage her ruined make-up. “You shouldn’t put yourself in such a state. It is only a game after all.”

“ _A game_.” she croaked.

“Yes.” Elindra replied firmly. “A game. It is only natural that you grew attached to the girl, naturally, but she might win yet and you never know... Nothing say the boy will go back with her.”

She closed her eyes hard because she didn’t know which possibility she dreaded more.

“Haymitch will never let Hayden go back.” she whispered and she started wailing again, unable to stop, unable to even control how loud she was being because the idea was simply _too much_. She had a bad feeling, she had _such_ a bad feeling...

“Effie...” her mother sighed and then she did something Effie couldn’t remember her doing in years if ever. She wrapped her arms around her and brought her close even though she probably knew her daughter’s make up would stain her dress. Effie was so surprised she didn’t even know how to react at first and then she clung to her with all her might. Elindra stroked her back with harsh gestures, as if she didn’t quite know how to be comforting. “Which one is it?”

“What...” she sobbed.

“Which one of the two?” Elindra insisted, clicking her tongue once in her _no-nonsense_ way. “I am neither stupid nor clueless, darling. I know when one of my daughters is in love. Which one?”

“Haymitch.” she confessed and her voice broke on the name. “Haymitch.” she repeated more strongly. “What if I... What if I reap him? What if I send him back? I can’t... I can’t do it, Mother.”

Elindra’s bony fingers dug into her shoulders like claws and pushed her back so she could stare at her.

“ _Of course_ , you are going to do it, Effie.” her mother said and there was so much strength in her voice, she didn’t doubt it for one second. “You do _not_ have a choice.”

“You don’t understand.” she murmured, her eyes wide. “If I reap Hayden, he will volunteer. If I reap Peeta...” She hesitated but she knew what she would have done if she had been in any position to help Katniss and she also knew Haymitch loved the children just how much as she did. “I can’t lose him, Mother. I _can’t_.”

“Yes, _you_ _can_.” Elindra huffed. “I raised you to be better than anyone else, stronger. There is _nothing_ you can’t do. Now, here is what you _are_ going to do: fix your make-up, put a smile on your face and come back to the party. What do we _always_ say, darling? _Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_.”

She shook her head but her mother placed a hand under her chin and nudged her head up. “You do _not_ have a choice, Effie. You need to do this or people might get the wrong idea. Think about your father and I, think about your sister and her family.”

Effie had nothing to answer to that but the tears wouldn’t stop anyway no matter how hard she tried.

“Fix your make-up.” Elindra ordered again, a little more softly. She patted her shoulder before leaving the bathroom.

She didn’t even have time to close the door behind her that Lyssa stepped in and immediately embraced her, no question asked.

“I’m so sorry, Effie.” she told her. “It’s so unfair.”

There was no dread in her sister’s eyes, no mistrust, no inkling that they could be listened to right now and that her words could be seen as anti-Capitol. Lyssa didn’t know and thus she needed to be protected for her sake and for Safia’s. That was something Effie could do.

“Help me with my make-up.” she sniffed, swallowing back the lump in her throat and forbidding herself to think about Haymitch. “Please.”

°O°O°O°

Haymitch collapsed next to the pen.

He didn’t know how he had arrived there, he didn’t remember.

_Male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors_.

That wasn’t the plan. That _wasn’t_ the plan.

Except, what more efficient way to make sure the fire caught than to make a martyr of the Girl On Fire? His head was spinning with suspicions, anger and terror.

He couldn’t go back.

He _couldn’t_.

It was all coming back, as vividly as if he had been back there. The reaping, the training, the chariots, Maysilee’s smirk, the pods, the arena, the face of his first kill, the birds, holding her dying body, the axe, the pain, the cliff...

“Breathe.”

He couldn’t.

He needed a drink.

He needed an ocean of alcohol.

“ _Effie_.” he begged. He needed to hear her voice, he needed her hand in his hair, he needed to hold her, he needed...

“It’s just me. Hey, Haymitch... Breathe.”

He blinked and the flashbacks slowly faded away revealing Peeta’s concerned face. The boy was crouching next to him, a hand on his shoulder to keep his balance – sometimes hard to do with his prosthetic leg – watching him with understanding eyes.

“Where’s Hayden?” Peeta asked, looking around. The backyard was deserted, whatever was happening in the house, nobody had followed him.

Hayden...

_Male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors_.

_Fuck_.

“Fuck.” he spat. “Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

“Yes, that’s the general idea.” Peeta snorted with some bitterness. “Look, we need to talk before Katniss realizes what it means.” Haymitch was still trying to wrap his head around the idea so he could only listen as the boy continued. “You chose her last time, you owe me one now. I want you to do everything you can to get her to win. I want you to let me go back with her so I can keep her safe. If you or Hayden are called, I will volunteer. If Effie calls my name, you will let me go.”

He shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

And he _couldn’t_. How twisted was that?

_Fuck,_ he was _so_ screwed.

He couldn’t let either Peeta or Hayden go back, not if he could help it.

Which meant...

Which meant he would be dead in a few months.

_Fuck_.

“You don’t have a choice.” Peeta argued. “You _owe_ me, Haymitch. You’re more useful outside than in, you know every trick in the book and I can protect her better from inside.”

“Peeta...” he countered.

“It’s good for you too.” the boy insisted. “This way, you’re sure your brother won’t get reaped and you stay out of there.”

He shook his head and grabbed the boy’s arm. “Look, I’m not as young as I used to be but I can still protect her just fine. I...”

“I don’t trust you.” Peeta cut him off. “You have a family. You have people to go back to. Once you’re in there, it will be tempting to fight for them. I don’t have that. I only have her. You owe me, Haymitch. Swear you will let me do this my way.”

The boy wouldn’t be swayed, he saw it clearly. And he was already a liar so it didn’t cost him anything to give him a terse nod. Peeta nodded back, slowly stood up and offered his hand to help him up.

“Thanks.” Peeta said and then he left.

He stumbled back inside the house, uncertain of how long he had spent outside. It was silent. Hayden was sitting in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.

“Katniss ran off.” his brother told him in a flat voice. “Mama fainted, her heart’s bothering her. Aster’s sitting with her right now. You shouldn’t have taken off like that.”

He didn’t even bristle at the rebuke in his brother’s voice.

He felt as if he was out of his body. It was a strange feeling. He was moving, talking, but his mind was strangely dissociated from the present moment. He sat down in front of his brother and touched his wrist to make sure he would have his plain attention.

“You’re not coming to the Capitol this season.” he exposed. “Whoever... Whoever don’t get reaped, Peeta or me, one of us will take up mentoring. With Effie’s help it should be alright.”

“What if _I_ am reaped?” Hayden scoffed. “You can’t just...”

“You won’t.” he cut him off. “Whatever happens, you’re not going back.”

Hayden’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “ _No._ I’m not letting you volunteering for me. I’m tired of you playing martyr at every turn. I don’t need you to save me. I...”

_“I_ need to be sure there is someone I trust out there, one way or another.” he interrupted him. “I need to know someone can protect Mama because I won’t be able to do it. I _trust_ _you_ to protect Mama. And I need you to stay in Twelve with her, I need you to be prepared in case anything happens. I need you to be my brother, Hayden, I need you to do what I say.”

Hayden watched him for several seconds. “What do you think will happen?”

“Maybe nothing.” Haymitch replied. “Maybe something. I have to know she’s safe with you, yeah? If I have to go back...”

“But you don’t _have_ to go back.” his brother argued. “ _You_ can stay here. I can go.”

“That’s not how it works.” he chuckled and it sounded a bit hysterical to his ears. “Remember what you said? Hazelle and the kids, they’re yours and they come first? Well, those are my kids we’re talking about, not yours.”

“For Peeta, fine.” Hayden waved that off. “If Peeta is reaped... I will let you go. Fine.” It wasn’t _fine_. His brother’s eyes were hard and he was clutching the cup so hard Haymitch was afraid it would burst. “But if it’s my name, if...”

“You’re mine too, baby brother.” Haymitch whispered. “You’ve always been. I would have volunteered last time too if I could. There’s no choice to make here.”

“Haymitch...” Hayden insisted, shaking his head.

“I need you to promise me you won’t volunteer. Whatever happens, you _don’t_ volunteer.” he pressed. “Because I can’t live with that, Hayden.”

“And you think _I_ can live with you throwing your life away for me?” his brother retorted. “It’s unfair!”

“It is but that’s how it works.” Haymitch shrugged. “And I need you here to protect Mama. They killed Mabel last time.” The reminder was enough to make Hayden look away. “For Mama.” he insisted.

Finally, after the longest time, Hayden closed his eyes, defeated. “For Mama.”

“Good boy.” Haymitch approved, his voice made rough by the lump in his throat. “Now, if I don’t make it...”

“Don’t.” Hayden snarled. “ _Don’t_...”

“We need to talk about it.” he said. “We _need_ to ‘cause... Mama’s not the only one I want to make sure is safe. If I don’t make it...”

“I will take care of her, you don’t need to ask.” his brother whispered. “Of course, I will.”

He thanked him with a nod.

“She knows...” he started and then shrugged. “She knows how I feel but remind her, okay? If I die and she can’t move on, tell her to remember what I said the last night of the Tour.”

“What did you say?” Hayden frowned.

“She knows.” he repeated, before rubbing his face. “Now I really need to get drunk.”

“No.” his brother countered. “There’s no more liquor anyway. I threw everything out after the announcement.”

He wasn’t even surprised.

“ _Fucking_ bad day.” he snorted.

“Yeah.” Hayden sneered. “ _Fucking_ bad day. You can have tea.”

“You’re too good.” he snickered.

He took the cup of tea anyway.

They spent most of the night in the kitchen, drinking tasteless tea, taking turn checking on their mother and not saying anything. Being together was already enough.

Katniss showed up at some point, disheveled, obviously cold and with a look of determination on her face. Hayden wordlessly left them to it.

He accepted her request to save Peeta without much of a fight, mainly because the decision was already taken. If he could do it, he would. They were his kids, the three of them – even if Hayden was thirty-five – and he would do anything to save them from going back.

And when Peeta showed up the next morning, declaring that they were going to train like Careers, he went with it because it seemed like a good enough idea. Watching tapes of previous games and studying the enemy seemed clever too.

Except that the enemies were his friends and it made everything unbearable.

Whatever happened, wherever he stood, he would have to watch his friends die.

The weeks before the Reaping flew by quickly.

Training was good for the kids, Katniss and Peeta were quick and dangerous. He was slower and depended mainly on his brute strength. His knives throwing left a lot to be desired but in close range combat he could hold himself. Hayden had naturally assumed the role of coach since it was tacitly acknowledged in their little group of victors that he wouldn’t be going to the Capitol that year in any capacity and followed the same program he imposed on them. It was hard and difficult but it occupied them and didn’t leave them with enough time to think, which was always a plus. Gale sometimes joined them on Hayden’s request and helped or simply provided friendly competition – it was friendly unless he was against Peeta, at least.

He never managed to get a hold on Effie.

He hoped she was doing alright but he had his doubts.


	90. Chapter 90

The night before the Quell’s Reaping found him sitting on the back porch, a cup of tea in his hand – since it was the only thing he was allowed those days – staring at the stars above. You couldn’t see the stars in the Capitol and he had always wanted to properly show them to Effie but they had never gotten around to actually do any stargazing. There were a thousand things they hadn’t gotten to do.

The silence from the pen was unnerving. He had sold the last goose two days earlier and he already missed the quacking and honking. 

“I thought I was done dreading Reaping day.” Iris said from the door. He watched his mother as she slowly sat down on the step next to him. “I thought I would never have to be scared for my sons again.”

“Hayden’s safe.” he said. “Nobody is letting him go to that arena.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “If you go in there with the girl...”

“Then you know who’s coming out, don’t you?” he snorted, finishing his cup in one long swallow. “No big deal, you will still have your favorite son.”

“Stop it, Haymitch.” she hissed. “ _Stop it_.” She whacked his arm. “I love you, you stupid boy. I love you and I’m proud of you and I’m sorry I’m such a stupid old pig-headed woman. I couldn’t care less if you’ve slept with every woman in Panem. I don’t want to lose you any more than I want to lose Hayden.” His mother was crying now, fat ugly tears that rolled down her cheeks and broke his heart. “I love you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel as if I didn’t. _I love you_.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried her fears out. It reminded him so much of Hayden’s Reaping...

“How many times do they expect me to go through this?” she sobbed.

“If we’re lucky? Just once more.” he replied.

“If you’re reaped, Haymitch... You won once, you have to win again.” she begged. “And don’t go in there thinking I don’t love you. Don’t...”

“Don’t get upset, Mama.” he sighed. “It’s bad for you. You should be resting.”

His mother, however, remained inconsolable.

If the night was bad, the morning before the Reaping was worse.

Hayden showed up for breakfast, tense and looking as if he hadn’t slept one wink. They waited for Effie to appear but she never did, so they made sure to wear proper clothes – their mother picked them like she had done so many years ago – and joined the kids at Katniss’. They were escorted to the Square by aggressive Peacekeepers who kept poking at them with their guns every time they slowed down. Haymitch walked in front with Hayden, Katniss and Peeta were behind them, loosely holding hands. He didn’t know if their entrance was filmed, probably not, but it was too bad because it certainly made an impression on Twelve’s citizens.

A hush fell on the crowd.

Effie was already on stage, in an impressive butterfly dress, looking two seconds away from having a nervous breakdown. He met her eyes as they neared the stage. He could see her breathing quickening with every step the victors took.

“Keep it together.” he mouthed at her.

If she understood, it had next to no effect. Her voice broke when she called Katniss’ name.

“Remember your promise.” Peeta whispered as their escort went to stand behind the glass bowl with their names.

“I could still do it.” Hayden cut in. “Everyone wins this way. Haymitch can find a way to get us both out of there and...”

“No.” he and Peeta answered at the same time.

He hoped Effie wouldn’t pick up his brother’s name. If she did, it would be a game of who would volunteer the quickest and he wasn’t ready for that. As it was, he wasn’t sure he was ready for what was coming. He wanted to say he was hoping she would draw Peeta’s name so he could volunteer and spare him the misery of going back, so he could protect Katniss, but the fact was... A selfish part of him was hoping to escape the nightmare.

Effie was frozen behind the glass bowl.

It took longer than simple suspense justified. Katniss eventually picked up on it and nudged her. Haymitch distinctly read her name of the girl’s lips. She startled and shot a guilty glance at Katniss before looking toward them, her breathing was so quick she was almost panting.

“Do it, sweetheart.” he pleaded under his breath. “Just do it.”

She couldn’t hear him but they had never really needed to talk to understand each other. She placed her hand in the bowl and rummaged around, a strained smile on her mouth. Her lips wobbled when her fingers finally closed on a piece of paper. She took it out almost hesitantly, unfolded it just as slowly, and closed her eyes once she had glimpsed the name.

“It’s you.” Hayden whispered to him a split second before she opened her eyes again. “ _Fuck_ , Haymitch... Let me...”

The golden wig on her head caught the sunlight and looked like a distorted halo.

It made her look like an odd broken angel.

“You do that, I kill you myself.” he growled. “It might be any of us.”

“No, it’s you.” his brother insisted. “I know her.”

Apparently, he _did_ , because if her voice had been broken when she had called Katniss, it was nothing compared to what it sounded when she called the male tribute’s name. “Haymitch Abernathy.”

It was barely a whisper but it carried far.

“I volunteer as tribute!” Peeta shouted, taking a step forward.

Haymitch grabbed his coat and pulled him back. “I can’t let you. Let me...”

“You can’t stop me.” Peeta shrugged him off and climbed the few steps to the stage.

“I give you District Twelve’s tributes. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.” Effie said, attempting and failing to sound cheerful.

“ _Fuck_.” Haymitch spat.

That was all he had time to say. The cameras were abruptly shut down and Thread grabbed Katniss’ arm while another Peacekeeper took hold of Peeta. The girl protested, started screaming about saying goodbye to her family, but she went unheard. Effie tried to intervene and found herself faced with the barrel of a gun. It was enough to make _him_ lose his calm. He jumped on stage like a man possessed and placed himself in between her and the gun.

Katniss wasn’t the only one who wasn’t allowed a goodbye.

He and Effie were herded to another car. Hayden tried to reach them but he was shoved back. The last image Haymitch had of him was Gale helping him up.

The ride from the Justice Building to the station was brief and silent. Effie clung to his hand but didn’t open her mouth.

Once they were on the train, she played her role, falling back on the bubbly escort persona. She wasn’t convincing but Peeta humored her, attempting to alleviate some of Katniss’ sorrow. The girl was upset by the lack of goodbyes. Haymitch was too.

He clung to the fact that it would only be a few weeks and if everything went according to plan – or what he _hoped_ was in planning anyway – they would see them again safe and sound in Thirteen. There were a lot of _ifs_ admittedly but if he allowed himself to doubt, he would go crazy. The kids soon went to their room to wait for dinner. The second the door shut behind Peeta, Effie was in his arms, her face buried against his neck, her breathing shallow. Her nails dug in his shoulders painfully but he simply held her tight and closed his eyes.

They didn’t say anything.

There was nothing to say.

Dinner was a gloomy affair. Effie and Peeta attempted to bring some levity into it but neither he nor Katniss were in the mood and when their escort declared she would get them all matching tokens so they would look like a team, he barely grunted.

“Matching tokens are a statement.” he muttered later, as they were all on their way to the living-room car to watch the Reaping’s recap.

“I am past statements.” she whispered. “I am being shadowed everywhere I go. Whatever you are involved in, clearly they think I am too.”

That was news to him and it made his heart beat a lot quicker. “Sweetheart...”

“Do _not_ tell me.” she hissed. “Do not tell me _anything_. I cannot swear I will keep your secrets. If they interrogate me...”

“I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you.” he growled in her ear so the bugs wouldn’t pick it up.

“A commendable sentiment.” she smiled. “But even so. It is safer this way.”

The Reaping’s recap was perhaps just as difficult to watch as having to live through a second Reaping had been. At each District, he held his breath and waited to know which one of the people he had been joking with for years would either end up dead or at his kids’ throats. The kids were the youngest, the newest victors, and so they would be the obvious targets.

Gloss and Cashmere were called for One and even though he wasn’t friend with either, he couldn’t help but feel for them. He couldn’t imagine having been tossed back in the arena with Hayden. In Two, Brutus was reaped and Enobaria volunteered in place of an old victor who had won a few years after Mags. Until then, she was the first and only one to look happy about her fate. She flashed her fangs to the camera and clasped Brutus’ shoulder with a wink. It might have been an act or she might have been _that_ crazy. He wasn’t sure.

Next to him, Effie let out a slow breath. He knew what she was thinking: if Hayden had been reaped, he would have been first on _her_ list.

There were no volunteers in District Three. He clenched his fists when Beetee and Wiress were called out.

District Four was a sham.

“Is it _rigged_?” Effie whispered, low enough that the kids, who were busy comparing the names with the notes Peeta had made when they had watched the tapes of previous Hunger Games, wouldn’t hear. “There are five other men and six women, what are the odds of _Finnick and Annie_ being reaped _together_?”

“Yeah. Fishy.” he admitted, right as Mags volunteered to take Annie’s place. “ _Fuck_.”

His hiss went unnoticed by Katniss and Peeta but Effie placed her hand on his clenched fist.

When they called Johanna for Seven, he decided Effie had the right idea and at least _some_ of the Reapings had been rigged. There were too many victors involved in the rebellion being called.

Chaff and Seeder being reaped only cemented that idea.

“I am _so_ sorry.” Effie whispered when Chaff lifted his stump to the sky in a mock show of joy.

He gritted his teeth and remained silent. The recap of their own reaping was painful to watch. Not only had the camera panned a lot on Prim, Aster, and his own mother but it was so obvious Effie was upset it made him nervous. To be fair, all the other escorts had seemed upset – but not to that extent.

He couldn’t sleep that night, even with her warm body wrapped around him, all he could see when he closed his eyes were his closest friends lying _dead_ in a pool of blood. He wandered down the train corridors, intending to go to the bar car and see if it was still the same Avox mending the drinks – he had grown used to talking to the guy even if he never got any answer – but he ended up back in the living-room instead, following the noise of the TV. He remained on the threshold for a long time, watching images he had only seen a couple of times. His own Games.

And Maysilee dying in a pool of blood, her throat maimed, and his desperate attempts at keeping her with him, keeping her _breathing_...

“It’s almost as bad as me with Rue.” Katniss said.

“Almost but not quite.” he snorted.

He didn’t feel any better when he lied back down in Effie’s bed a few hours later.

He didn’t feel better either when Cinna and Portia greeted them as the Opening Ceremony was about to start the following day.

There was an odd tension in the air. Even the audience didn’t seem to know what to do with that Quell. Victors who hadn’t been reaped were walking on eggshells, not sure what to do or who to talk to. It didn’t help that most of the usual mentors were now cast in the role of tributes, leaving the actual mentoring to people who had either never played that part or had stopped doing it years earlier and were now rusty.

Watching the Ceremony only made him angrier by the second. It was simply _ridiculous_. The stylists had either been taken aback or had not thought that what was already barely acceptable for teenagers would look downright absurd on grown men and women. The Careers were the only ones who didn’t look like clowns – and he could actually _see_ Johanna seething with fury in her tree outfit, he was surprised she didn’t simply rip it off her body then and there.

Katniss and Peeta were the only ones who looked like tributes ought to and, as such, the crowd went wild when they finally appeared.

“No smile, no waving.” Effie observed. “Was it your idea?”

“Yeah.” he said simply, happy with the result. They looked dark, dangerous, and unforgiving. He exchanged a glance with Cinna who simply nodded once. That was the aim.

There was a joyful mood in the compound’s courtyard and more than one laugh could be heard amongst the horses’ neighs. It was even odder to walk in there and see all his friends in strange outfits, laughing and joking with each other, pretending they were not scared to death or angry as hell. Effie was stopped by Eight’s escort and Cinna and Portia went straight to the kids so he made his way to Eleven’s chariot.

He didn’t quite know what to say to Chaff, how to convey how sorry he was, but as he approached he saw that any expression of sympathy on his part wouldn’t be welcomed. Chaff’s laughter was booming around him, extremely fake, while Seeder shook her head, an equally forced smile on her lips.

He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “So, I guess I owe you a drink.”

“I guess you do, you lucky _bastard_.” Chaff chuckled. “Everyone can’t have someone volunteering for them.” Haymitch let himself be pulled into a hug. “You will get us out of there, buddy, I trust you.”

The whisper was low enough that it was covered by the surrounding conversations. Haymitch straightened up and nodded.

“Can you introduce us to your tributes?” Seeder asked.

That was an easy enough request. Chaff was his usual self, planting a kiss on Katniss’ lips, joking around with Peeta... Johanna was her usual self too, stripping down in the elevator like it was a common occurrence – although with her, it probably _was_ – she had gone a long way since the shaky creature Finnick had brought to Effie’s apartment a few years earlier. She had learned to use everything she had as a weapon. And she was _lethal_.

Unsurprisingly, Katniss didn’t enjoy the show of power as much as he and Peeta did. 

Unsurprisingly, she snitched to Effie who gave him and Peeta a long heartfelt lecture about _propriety_.

She was still giving him the cold shoulder when they finally went to bed that night. They lied side by side in silence, her back was turned to him and she had tugged the covers up to her ear.

“Stop sulking.” he sighed, placing a hand on her hip. She batted it away. “Really, sweetheart? Already forgotten I came _that_ close to my impending death?”

She tossed him a glare over her shoulder. “Are you really trying to guilt-trip me into having sex with you?”

He shrugged. “Is it working?”

She pursed her lips and turned away again. “You shouldn’t give that sort of example to Peeta. It is _not_ done. You should have stopped her.”

“You know how she is.” He rolled his eyes. Johanna had a reputation. As far as victors went, she was difficult. A few more years and she would probably have beaten Twelve’s record about firing escorts. She went through one a year.

“Yes, I do. And I also know why. Which is why I tend to excuse her.” Effie snapped. “You, on the other hand, have no such excuses in this instance.”

“I have more baggage than she has.” he grumbled. “And my mother thinks I’m a pig who doesn’t deserve you. My brother still resents me for playing the hero, as he calls it, and you are sulking. I’m unhappy. I have excuses. Now, if you don’t want to have sex, can I at least hold you? I missed you.”

She breathed out a long sigh and finally turned around.

“I missed you too.” she admitted. “After the announcement... I knew I would pick up your name, I had that _ominous_ feeling. It wouldn’t go away.”

He brushed the hair away from her face. “I’m okay, sweetheart. We’re okay.”

“But for how long?” she whispered.

He didn’t have an answer to that question.

So he kissed her instead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this linemark of 90 chapters, we are 23 away from the actual end... ;) What did you think of this chapter? Let me know!


	91. Chapter 91

“I think that covers it.” Plutarch sighed, switching off the 3D map of the arena. “We’re as ready as we’re ever going to be.”

Haymitch didn’t feel ready. He studied the face of everyone gathered in that cellar and wished he could trust them as completely as he needed to.

Cinna was still hiding things, he had heard him whisper with Plutarch about a dress and, if he had figured out it concerned Katniss, he hadn’t been privy to the actual conversation. There were things they refused to tell him. He was part of the rebellion now, a key player Plutarch had called him, but just like he didn’t fully trust them, they were a little wary of him.

Plutarch was a jolly enough fellow and probably the one who had the most to lose. Snow trusted him. If he ever was unmasked as a traitor, there would be hell to pay. But the man had a brilliant brain, Haymitch had seen it at once and that was something he could respect. He could toss ideas and Plutarch would bounce them back, they had practically designed the plan to attack the arena together with a few inputs from Thirteen’s military advisor.

Boggs _wasn’t_ a jolly fellow. He had been introduced to Haymitch as President Coin’s second in command – and the fact that the woman had already declared herself President had told the victor all he needed to know about her, really – and he had held up to that title. The man was deadly calm at all times, he mulled his thoughts over before he talked and – which actually was why Haymitch didn’t dislike him – always tried to keep in mind the potential collateral damages. His aim was to rescue the victors with as minimal human loss as possible.

There _would_ be losses, they were all conscious of that, it was a risky operation and the guarantees of success were thin but time was running out and they were out of options.

Training had ended the previous day, marking Katniss and Peeta as the ultimate targets and Haymitch had been breaking his back sealing alliances without their knowledge. They would need allies for the plan to work and they would need allies to stay alive until the arena could be attacked. There wouldn’t be many sponsors, Effie had been killing herself working their contacts but it was obvious instructions had been given.

Twelve wasn’t to win.

Their only sponsors would come through the alliance and the money would come from the rebels – Fulvia was confident they could hide the origins of the funds long enough that it wouldn’t alarm anyone.

Fulvia… He didn’t like Fulvia much. The woman was driven, that much was clear, and it was also obvious to him she and the Gamemaker were an item. She treated Haymitch cordially but the latent loathing was perceptible all the same. He had played the Capitol’s games too long and too well in her opinion, he mused. To those rebels, he was the Capitol’s bitch. Boggs had been polite enough not to mention it but he figured he would have to answer for that once they would reach Thirteen.

“I will let Damian know we’re ready to leave.” Fulvia offered, climbing up the stairs to the main part of the bar they were hiding in.

They had switched locations every time they had met and Haymitch had been surprised by how many hideouts the rebels had in the Capitol. And by how many people were willing to help.

“We need to get the message to the victors.” Boggs said. “Some of them need to know about the bread. And Beetee and Wiress must be told about the force field.”

“I can take care of that.” Haymitch offered.

“Remember, no one can know _everything_.” Cinna cut in. “Information needs to be scattered in case one of them betrays us.”

“No one will betray us.” Plutarch chuckled.

Nobody else found it funny and nobody else ventured any reassurance on that front.

Haymitch was too aware of just how much could go wrong, how easy it would be for someone to talk if their loved ones were threatened…

“Are you certain you wish to keep Katniss and Peeta in the dark?” the Gamemaker asked. “That’s your last chance to come back on that…”

“Yes.” he insisted. “That’s key. Katniss can’t lie to save her life and Peeta wants her safe at all cost. It’s easier this way.”

“They will be angry.” Cinna commented.

Haymitch shrugged. “As long as they’re still alive, I can deal with them being angry.” They wouldn’t be the only ones who would be angry – which reminded him… “There’s something else we haven’t talked about. I need assurance that my family, the Everdeens, the Mellarks and the Hawthornes will be evacuated as soon as we have the victors on board.”

He had expected a fuss and endless arguments – and he had been prepared to match them all with his own – but Boggs simply nodded. “I had a feeling you would request that eventually. I already secured President Coin’s agreement. A team will be send out as soon as the hovercraft is on its way to Thirteen. I would appreciate a map of the District and the probable location of the people you want us to take away. It would help.”

“Yeah. Whatever helps.” he shrugged. “I also want Effie evacuated.”

“Effie?” Boggs frowned.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Haymitch…” Plutarch winced.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “You’re telling me there won’t be any more hovercrafts leaving the Capitol with other rebels? I’ve heard you talk about it with your assistant. Don’t _bullshit_ me.”

“Who’s Effie?” Boggs insisted.

“Effie Trinket.” Cinna supplied with a sigh, his eyes coming to rest briefly on the bangle around Haymitch’s wrist. It felt like a manacle but he hadn’t complained since it pleased her – he hadn’t complained _much_ , at least. “She can be trusted. Portia and I can vouch for her.”

“She’s an escort.” the soldier scoffed. “Why would you want to…”

“She’s non-negotiable.” Haymitch growled. “She comes with us or I stay here.”

“Why do you always feel the need to _threaten_ , Haymitch?” Plutarch sighed. “In effect, she could be evacuated with Portia and Cinna, I suppose, assuming… Well, assuming everything goes according to plan. It wouldn’t be a bother, Boggs.”

“She’s an _escort_.” the man repeated.

“She’s _the Mockingjay’s escort_.” Haymitch snapped. “You want Katniss to help, you will need someone she trusts.”

“Effie comes recommended by Livia, Chaff, Portia and myself.” Cinna pressed. “Tell that to Coin.”

Boggs didn’t look entirely convinced. “Are you certain?”

“I trust her with my life.” Haymitch grumbled, unhappy to have to reveal that much when it could be used against him. “And I won’t go anywhere without her.”

The soldier studied him, not fooled for one second by his apparent detachment. “You’re involved with this woman.”

“None of your business, is it?” he scorned.

“It is if you want to keep her safe.” Boggs retorted. “You will need to secure an immunity for her, Plutarch. An escort… I can’t say she would be welcomed with open arms otherwise. I’m not sure President Coin will be thrilled by the idea as it is.”

“Political refugee.” the Gamemaker decided. “Like the rest of us Capitols. I will personally vouch for Effie too.”

“Fine.” Boggs nodded. “I will talk to the President about it during our next communication but you can’t tell her anything, Haymitch. She’s not trained and she has not been approved.”

“And it’s in her best interest not to know anything.” Cinna added. “If she doesn’t know anything, she is not a valuable target.”

He reluctantly nodded his agreement, wondering how long it would take Effie to kill him for taking decisions on her behalf once they would be safe and sound in Thirteen – _hoping_ they would be safe and sound in Thirteen.

They all left the bar one after the other, leaving Boggs to hide in the cellar. If everything went according to plan, he wouldn’t see the man again until the day of the break out. Haymitch was tensed and worried and spent the whole walk back to the Training Center praying Hayden and their mother were alright. He hadn’t been able to talk to them since the Reaping, phone calls wouldn’t get through. He couldn’t warn Hayden about what was going to happen and he needed to trust his brother would keep his head and do the clever thing, be the victor Haymitch had denied him the possibility to be.

It was late by the time he reached the penthouse, late enough that the kids had been hoarded to bed and Effie had fallen asleep on the couch, devoid of make-up and wig, wearing only frilly lavender shorts with a darker mauve top. If the half empty cup of coffee on the table was any indication, she had meant to wait for him.

He watched her for a while, smirking at the idea than one of the kids could have found her there and not recognized her. He leaned over the back of the couch, trailing his fingers down her bare arm. She wriggled unhappily when he reached the crook of her elbow, always ticklish.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he snorted. “Do I have to carry you to bed?”

She mumbled something completely incoherent and he took that as his cue. With a sigh, he stepped around the couch to grab her around the back and under the knees.

“You’re making a habit of this.” he complained. She nuzzled his neck with her cold nose and he rolled his eyes. “Now, that’s cheating. You’re not asleep.”

“I am a little.” she countered, muffling a yawn against his shoulder. “Where were you?” And, suddenly, she was fully awake. He could tell because she tensed in his arms, all the stress coming back to pour on them both. “Are you _absolutely_ certain we were right to give the children the day off? The interviews tomorrow will be _critical_ to victory. And I spent all day trying to find sponsors, Haymitch, nobody’s interested. They all love the star-crossed lovers but _no one_ wants to give us money.”

“Don’t worry about that.” he told her, fumbling with the handle of her bedroom door. “I found us a few.”

“Really? Where? _Who_?” she asked right as he managed to turn the handle.

“You’ll see.” he shrugged, nudging the door shut behind them with his foot. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She opened her mouth to ask more questions but he kissed her silent and laid her down on the bed before covering her body with his, careful not to crush her. He could hear the mad thumping of her heart against his chest. “It will be over soon.” he promised, between two kisses. “And it’s going to be just fine.”

He had to believe it, at least.

“Portia told me…” she whispered, cupping his cheek, her thumb nail scratching the stubble… “You are going to be very mad, Haymitch, but there is nothing you can do. Portia told me she and Cinna have been requested to dress the children in their wedding outfits for the interviews.”

_Mad_ was an understatement.

Whose idea was it though? Snow’s? Or Plutarch’s? The Gamemaker and the stylist had been talking about a dress… And what better way to remind all Panem how tragic Katniss and Peeta’s story was than to show them in a wedding dress and a wedding tux. If that was part of the rebels propaganda’s plan, nobody had informed him. His control on the whole Mockingjay thing was tenuous at best. He already sensed he would have to fight tooth and nail to protect the kids from being forced in a public wedding in Thirteen.

“Let’s get some sleep.” he grumbled. “We won’t get much once the Games start.”

He rolled off her and waited until she was snuggled against his side to switch off the lamp. He acutely felt the need for a drink but resisted that siren’s call by burying his nose in her hair and breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

It didn’t take long for her breathing to even out but, try as he might, Haymitch couldn’t fall asleep. There were too many things in his head, too many thoughts and worries. He kept revisiting the plan, too many things lied on the hope that designated victors would make it past the Cornucopia, but he didn’t see how they could have worked around that. Finnick and Johanna could handle themselves. _Probably_. And he could trust them with his kids. _Probably_. But Chaff? Mags, Seeder, Blight, the rest of them… And there were Hayden and his mother too. They would be alone when _shit_ would hit the fan, he wouldn’t be there to protect them and it was _killing_ him.

He felt like he was grasping at straws, as if the people he was desperate to protect were all out of reach…

“Come here.” Effie whispered and it startled him because he had thought she was long asleep. They shifted so he could crawl down the bed and rest his head on her stomach. He closed his eyes when she started petting his hair soothingly. It had been years since his last _special appointment_ but he had lost count of the number of times she had held him like that after one of them. He still didn’t like to be touched when it wasn’t strictly necessary but she was the exception. She was the exception to a lot of things and he would be _damned_ if he left her behind now. “Everything will be fine.” she hummed.

“How do you know?” he snorted bitterly.

“Because you told me so.” she answered. “Now stop being difficult and get some sleep.”

“Yes, Mama.” he mocked.

“Be careful I do not spank you.” she warned, somewhere in between annoyed, amused and sleepy.

“Kinky.” he yawned. “And not your stuff.”

And he was grateful for that… The things some women asked for…

“Sleep, Haymitch.” she insisted.

Her gentle petting of his hair and the reassurance that _she_ , at least, was within arm reach, easier for him to protect, helped him drift off.

The morning didn’t bring any relief.

He managed to escape his escort’s vigilance while the kids were being groomed. He spread the news to the other victors as discreetly and sparingly as possible. None of his friends were in an amazing shape and he didn’t linger, unwilling to make last what could only be goodbyes for some of them.

“When I get back, drinks are on you.” Chaff shouted after him, as parting words.

“Try not to get killed too soon.” he shouted right back. “Wouldn’t make for a good show!”

The last thing he heard when he left Eleven’s floor was Chaff’s bark of a laugh.

“Are you alright?” Effie frowned, as soon as he appeared in the penthouse. “Where were you? Oh, never mind that. You need to get ready…”

She was worse than the stylists, forcing him under the shower, fussing over his tie and his hair to the point they had three screaming matches and four full blown arguments before she declared herself satisfied with him. She ordered him to sit on the couch and not to move a muscle again while she got ready herself.

Seeing Katniss in that bride dress was a shock. She was stunning and in another universe he would have been happy and proud to offer her his arm, to walk her down the aisle like Effie had planned for them. Right then though, he was just plain angry. Peeta was simply seething and had trouble forcing a smile on his lips even when Effie fussed over him, looking all teary.

By mutual agreement, he and Effie didn’t linger in front of the cameras after leaving the children backstage. It would be a different organization for the Quell, all tributes would be sitting on stage behind Caesar instead of waiting for their turn behind the curtain. Everyone was eager to talk to him, to have him comment on the Games, to have him reminisce over his own experience in the Quell… It was a relief to drop in their seats.

As soon as the lights were dimmed and Caesar appeared on stage, Effie grabbed his hand. They hardly ever did that in public but Haymitch couldn’t find it in himself to let go. She was comfort and warmth and he needed it.

Halfway through the interviews, he was deeply regretting not having brought liquor.

Finnick’s poem to his one true love had every woman in the audience in tears, even Effie was moved but probably for different reasons. While the other women were hoping he was addressing them, Effie knew who he truly was speaking to. Haymitch just hoped Annie was doing alright. He knew Finnick had made similar demands as he had to have her evacuated but they couldn’t do that before the arena was breached and Four wasn’t Twelve. It was far away from Thirteen and more heavily defended.

Jo’s little speech had him snickering in his seat and Effie clicking her tongue like a madwoman.

“Does she have to always be so vulgar?” she sighed. “I share her sentiment wholeheartedly but _still_.”

“Sweetheart.” he warned by reflex. They were in public, there were people sitting on either side of them and her words were as anti-Capitol as could be.

“I think we are past that, Haymitch.” she replied simply.

Caesar was straining to keep the mood light.

With each new victor who addressed them, the audience grew a little more restless.

When Katniss finally joined Caesar, Haymitch mused that the tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Some people had started to protest the Quell, echoing Johanna’s words that it was unfair. Too little too late though.

The girl did a good job up until the point she glanced at Cinna. Haymitch followed her gaze and saw the stylist smiling at her, lazily twirling his finger in the air. It was a command Katniss followed to the letter because if Cinna had told her to jump from a cliff, she would have done it without a single moment of hesitation, eyes closed. Haymitch was trying not to resent that blind trust but most days he failed.

Her wedding dress went off in flames in the midst of shocked gasps and shouts.

Haymitch and Effie were half out of their seats when the flames cleared, revealing Katniss standing there no longer looking like a bride but like a…

“Sweet mother of…” he cursed, dropping back down on his seat and forcing Effie to sit too.

“What is happening?” Effie asked, fighting to keep a smile on her lips. “Haymitch, what is happening?”

Katniss spread her arms and wings appeared.

“He made her the Mockingjay.” Haymitch explained in a terse murmur. “He just committed _suicide_.”

Caesar admired the dress appropriately and congratulated Cinna for his work but perspiration had appeared on his brow and he looked almost wary when he waved Peeta forward.

Haymitch was just as stunned with the pregnancy announcement as everyone else – not that he believed it for one second but that wasn’t a tactic they had planned – until he noticed Effie’s smug smile.

“Your idea?” he chuckled. “Good job, Princess.”

“Thank you.” she grinned.

It made the audience _wild_.

Capitol people were standing, waving their fists and shouting for the Games’ cancellation… The anthem started before Peeta was truly back in his seat but as soon as he reached it, Katniss gripped his hand, entwining their fingers together, and then she did the most wonderful thing, one of those things that made her _Katniss_ and that would never have looked as good if they had been scripted.

The girl grabbed Chaff’s stump. Chaff didn’t let himself think, he clasped Seeder’s hand who grabbed the next tribute and soon Haymitch was looking at an unbroken line of victors.

Almost as one, they lifted their joined hands in the air and he got chills from simply looking at it. His friends, his family for some… Victors, victims of the Capitol, standing tall, proud and defiant.

Unbroken. Unbound. Undefeated.

The screens abruptly turned to black before the end of the anthem but it wasn’t enough to stop the crowd from going hysterical.

 In a split second, it turned from potentially dangerous to utter chaos.

It was a riot like he had never witnessed in the Capitol. Peacekeepers were struggling to keep some semblance of order, people were being pushed, people were fighting, people were cursing Snow and the Gamemakers…

He wrapped one arm around Effie’s shoulders and shielded her as best as he could, fighting his way to the elevators. Around him, he could see other mentors trying to do the same – not all of them bothered with their escort. Once they reached the relative safety of the corridor though, they were met with angry looking Peacekeepers waving guns and ordering escorts and stylists back.

“Mentors only!” the Peacekeeper in charge was shouting.

If anything, it only added to the chaos and confusion. The escorts, and Effie amongst them, started shouting, protesting at the top of their lungs both over the rough treatment and about the stupidity of that decision. Eight’s escort tried to force her way through the barrage of Peacekeepers and took the butt of a gun in the stomach for her trouble. She doubled over with a cry of pain and everybody froze.

“You assaulted a Capitol citizen, you oaf!” Effie snapped, stomping her heel on the floor. She barely reached the Peacekeeper’s chin but she stared him down without blinking.

“Mentors only.” the man repeated with a clenched jaw.

Haymitch didn’t like the threatening way he was eyeing his escort so he grabbed her arm and dragged her further away.

“Go back to your apartment for the night.” he said. “I will see you in the morning.” He glanced through one of the huge windows framing the wall, saw the screaming crowd in the street and winced. “Be careful. And call when you’re in, yeah?”

“But I did not get to say goodbye to the children!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright with tears. “I did not… I want to…”

“I will tell them for you.” he promised. “Come on, sweetheart. They’re not going to let you in. Go home. Be _safe_.”

It took ten more minutes of coaxing before she agreed to leave but not without telling him once again to send her love to the kids.

He was almost glad she wasn’t there for the goodbyes. It was even worse than sending them off to bed the first time around.

“Stay alive.” he tossed as a last advice and watched them go back to their room, hoping against all hope it wouldn’t be the last time he would get to see them.

He waited next to the phone for a whole hour, nursing a single glass of whiskey he had yet to take a sip of. He hadn’t touched the stuff in forever, he didn’t want to touch it, his mother’s words about him being like his father too clear in his mind, but holding it was still comforting. From time to time, he walked to the bay windows and watched the people still protesting in the streets. When it finally rang he picked up before it was even done with its first note. “Effie?”

_“That is_ not _the proper way to answer the penthouse’s phone.”_ she sighed. “ _How many times did I tell you?”_

“You’re alright?” he asked, ignoring her rebuke.

_“Yes, unscathed and safe.”_ she said. “ _I couldn’t make it home though, it is utter_ madness _out there. I am at my parents’, it was the closest place I could think of.”_

“As long as you’re safe.” he shrugged.

_“Are you watching TV? They are trying to put a positive spin on this. They are saying the Quell is already a success because it unleashes passion.”_ He could hear the scowl in her voice. “ _Even Mother scoffed.”_

“The kids said thank you.” he snorted, unwilling to discuss this sort of things on the phone. “And something about you being the best escort ever. I was supposed to make it a special speech full of feelings.”

_“That is not really your style, they should know better_.” she chuckled.

“Yeah.” he agreed. “’Suppose the bottom line is they love you.”

“ _I am so proud of them…”_ she declared, her voice breaking a little. _“They deserved better, so much better…”_

“ _Euphemia, do not slouch!”_ someone called out behind her. The mother, he figured, rolling his eyes.

_“Yes, Mother_.” Effie mumbled.

_“And do not mutter under your breath! That’s unladylike.”_ the same voice chided.

“Seems like you’re up for a fun night.” he taunted.

_“Don’t you start too.”_ she hissed. “ _I do not think they will allow us in the Center before the launch. I will meet you at the Games Headquarters, yes?”_

“Yeah.” he nodded, rubbing his eyes.

_“Try to sleep.”_ she insisted.

“Without you?” he scoffed before he could think better of it.

There was a brief silence and he knew what she wanted to say, what she _couldn’t_ say on the phone.

“ _Goodnight, Haymitch.”_ she whispered.

“Goodnight, _Euphemia_.” he couldn’t help but taunt.

_“Oh, I am going to_ kill _you!”_ she threatened before hanging up.

It made him chuckle.


	92. Chapter 92

**_ Chapter 92 :  _ **

The Games were always exhausting and it was always unnerving to watch children die on TV but watching people you knew and liked? It was another brand of exhausting and unnerving entirely. At some point, after the scare Peeta gave them when he collided with the force field, Effie distanced herself. It wasn’t a conscious decision but she felt empty, _hollow_. Cinna and Portia were missing and being missing in the Capitol was never good. Seeder, Cecelia, Blight, Mags… So many people were dead, so many people she had talked to, laughed with and sometimes gossiped with over a drink had stopped breathing and Finnick or Chaff or Johanna or Beetee or, god forbid, Katniss or Peeta could be next and she couldn’t handle it.

So when Haymitch had declared they were taking a break while the little alliance waited for midnight to put their plan of electrifying the beach to execution, she agreed without a second thought. It didn’t even occur to her to protest. She was starting to doubt anything at all was planned. She was starting to doubt the Games would _ever_ end.

They were cuddling on the couch in the penthouse’s living-room, they had been for some time now. She was half lying on his chest, with her head in the crook of his neck, the rest of her body trapped between his and the back of the couch. She could still see the screen but nothing much was happening aside for Finnick and Johanna goofing around. How they could still laugh, she didn’t know. Perhaps because they knew they might be dead in a few hours. Haymitch’s hand was loosely coiled around her neck, his thumb running up and down her nape in a lazy caress.

On any other day, she would have fallen asleep by now, completely relaxed and safe in the knowledge he would watch over her and keep the nightmares at bay.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.

On any other day, he would be completely relaxed too but she could feel the tension coming from his body in waves, he kept glancing at the clock on the decorative fireplace mantle.

“Hayden.” he replied distractedly.

“I miss him.” she hummed sadly. She hadn’t been able to talk to him as much as she wanted to in months and she had only seen him from afar at the Reaping. Hayden was her best friend; in a lot of ways, and not only because of her relationship with Haymitch, he was the big brother she had never known she wanted. He made her feel safe in a different way Haymitch did. It wasn’t better or worse, just different.

“You will see him soon.” he said with such confidence she couldn’t help but frown.

_When_ was she supposed to see Hayden? Assuming the children beat the odds again and came out victors - or _one_ of them at least - it would still be weeks before she could escort them back to Twelve. And she had assumed something else would happen _before_ that. She had assumed something else would have _already_ happened.

The shrill ringing of the phone startled her and she sighed, knowing it probably meant they would have to leave the penthouse and the quiet bubble they had created there to go give interviews. She extracted herself from Haymitch, whacking his arm playfully when his hand lingered in places that shouldn’t be touched when they didn’t have time. If his smirk could be trusted, he was probably trying to rile her up anyway.

“Twelve’s floor, Effie Trinket speaking.” she greeted as she picked up the phone, infusing enough cheer in her voice that Haymitch craned his neck to make sure she would see his mocking expression.

_“Effie?”_

She frowned at the unexpected sound of her mother’s voice. “Mother? Mother, is something wrong?”

It was a stupid question, something must have been very wrong if Elindra was calling her in the middle of the Games.

_“I need you to come to the house right now. I need you to…”_   Far from being her usual collected self, Elindra sounded agitated, scared. “ _Effie, they are searching the house. They know about the books your father keeps. They say they are here to arrest him, they say the forbidden books make him a dissident. They won’t let me see him, I need you to come here, please. I cannot call your sister… Safia… I cannot deal with this alone, I need you to come.”_

Her mother sounded terrified and that wasn’t something she could _ever_ remember hearing Elindra be. Her blood ran cold. Arresting her father? For the forbidden books? That must have been a dreadful mistake…. Or at least she needed to convince them it was. “I am on my way, Mother, do not worry.”

Haymitch had sat up sometimes during the conversation and was staring at her. She hung up and immediately started looking for her shoes and her purse.

“There are Peacekeepers at my parent’s house. Mother says they want to arrest Father because of the books…” she explained, slipping on the heels she located near the coffee table. “I have to go. I will be back as soon as I can. You will manage until then, yes?”

“You’re not going.” he argued.

She looked around for her purse and then decided she could do without one. “Of course, I am going. They are arresting my father, don’t be ridiculous.”

He grabbed her arm before she could take a step toward the door and turned the ring on his finger until it flashed the familiar light that would assure them a private discussion.

“It’s a trap, sweetheart.” he snapped. “You’re not going.” His eyes darted to the clock on the fireplace and he cursed. “I don’t have time to explain, I need you to trust me. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving.” she repeated.

“Yeah, leaving.” He let go of her arm and cupped her cheek. “You’re going to Tigris’ shop. You know where that is, right? You know every shop in the city. You will meet a guy there, his name is Boggs. There will be other Capitols. You do as he says, and if anyone tries to start any trouble you remind them you’re on my list. You’re safe, you’re on my list, you tell them that.”

It didn’t make any sense.

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “Where am I going? Where are _you_ going?”

“I will be on another hovercraft.” he winced. “Look, sweetheart, I can’t explain anything. Just go to Tigris’, find Boggs.”

She was tempted. For a second, she was _tempted_. She didn’t know where he wanted to send her but it would be _away_ and he would join her. It would be a shot at a life together…

“I can’t.” she refused. “My parents…”

“Effie, if Peacekeepers are _really_ there then they’re as good as dead already.” he growled, framing her face in his hands with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the harshness of his words. He pressed his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes, utterly defeated. She wasn’t even sad… She was just tired of death constantly surrounding them. “I need to go get our kids, sweetheart, but I can’t leave if I don’t know you’re safe, you get that?”

_Go_ _get_ _their_ _kids_ …

The rebels would attack the arena…

And he would be right in the middle of it… But so were the children and if anyone could save them it was him. _Their_ kids… She wondered if he counted Finnick and Johanna in that pronoun, she hoped he did.

“I understand.” she said slowly.

“I need to go find Heavensbee. You’re going to Tigris’.” he insisted. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” Her voice was flat, her thoughts turned to her parents, to how terrified her mother had sounded. _They’re as good as dead already_.

“Good.” he breathed out, obviously relieved. He kissed her. It was meant to be a peck but she coiled her hand behind his neck and deepened it.

She was breathless by the time she drew back. “I need you to tell me you love me.”

She had never asked that of him, had always respected that it was something he wasn’t ready for and would probably never be.

“No.” he refused immediately, shaking his head. “Not as a goodbye. I don’t want you to be like Mabel. _Not_ as a goodbye. I’ll make you a deal, I’ll tell you when we see each other again, okay? In a few hours. I’ll tell you in a few hours.”

There was a lump in her throat and her eyes were itching with the need to cry. “Promise?”

“Promise.” he chuckled. “It will be the start of something new. We can be together. For real. No more hiding, no more being scared… It will be you and me.”

“And the children, and your mother and your brother and that Hazelle woman and her children.” she added, laughing despite the crushing dread and sorrow.

“Yeah.” he snorted. “Them too. They’re family. But you and me first. Properly, yeah? Maybe I will finally get you a ring.”

“I would like that.” she admitted. “I would like that very much.”

“I will see you in a few hours.” he repeated. “You go to Tigris’ shop and you do everything Boggs tells you until I arrive. Whatever happens, Hayden should meet you there.”

She gave him a shaky nod, kissed him one last time and wrapped her arms around his neck for a last painful hug.

“I love you.” she whispered in his ear. “Whatever happens, I love you.”

“In a few hours.” he insisted.

She forced herself not to look back when she left the penthouse.

°O°O°O°

Haymitch had collapsed on a chair at some point, tired of shouting at thin air.

“You’re bleeding.” Finnick pointed at his face over the three dimensional map that displayed a view of the Districts they were flying over. 

He touched his cheek and, surely enough, his fingers came out bloody. Katniss had nearly clawed his eyes out. The worst thing was that he couldn’t really blame her.

“I wanted to save them.” he said defensively. “Plutarch wouldn’t go back.”

Finnick’s answer was quiet but not mistrustful. “I know.”

He had tried to convince them to stop and turn around for Johanna and Peeta – hell, even _Enobaria_. He had _tried_. He had almost tackled Plutarch to a wall – he _would have_ taken the hovercraft by force if that Fulvia _bitch_ hadn’t called security. He had never intended to leave his friends behind. But Katniss would never understand that and she would never forgive him.

And yet…

He was angry at her too. She had almost made it impossible for them to rescue the victors by shooting that arrow too soon. If she had waited for a little bit, just a few more minutes… They hadn’t been in position when the arena’s force field had exploded. They had been too late. And she had let Peeta _out_ _of_ _her_ _sight_. Katniss, Beetee and Finnick had all been in the same place, easy to pick up. But Peeta and Johanna? Too far. Too late.

The Mockingjay was on board and the Mockingjay was all the rebels cared about.

Good luck making her lead their revolution now… She had been heavily sedated. She would sleep for hours. He had a feeling she wouldn’t feel better when she would wake up.

“That’s yours.” Finnick said, sliding something on the table. It disrupted the images on the three dimensional map, made them blurry for a second. It took him a moment to realize it was his bangle, _Effie’s_ bangle. It was dented, not completely round anymore. He slipped it on his wrist without thinking twice about it. He hated how flashy and heavy it was, it looked like a manacle, but it was from her and, let’s face it, he would have worn a bell around his neck if that had pleased her. That was how far gone for her he was. Finnick was still watching him. “Is she safe?” the boy asked.

“Should be in Thirteen by now.” he mumbled. Boggs’ hovercraft and the refugees it carried had gone as planned, they knew as much, and there was no reason to think it had met any problem during the flight. The Capitol was busier destroying the Districts than shooting them out of the sky.

“Good.” Finnick said flatly and Haymitch knew he was thinking about Annie. He wanted to promise they would find her, rescue her, but he knew the chances of that were slim. Maybe they could highjack the hovercraft, he mused for a second. Maybe they could turn it around, back to the Capitol, and rescue their friends. He shot the idea down as soon as it had appeared in his head. Katniss needed to be protected, on that point Plutarch was right.

And talking about the Gamemaker…

He came back in the room followed by his dutiful assistant.

“Katniss is settled.” Plutarch announced. “But we don’t have good news, Haymitch.”

He almost felt like laughing. _Of course_ , he didn’t have good news. With his luck? Boggs’ hovercraft had gone down and Effie with it.

“Shoot.” he growled.

“Twelve was bombed. It seems they had an inkling of what we were planning. They were lying in wait next to the District.” Plutarch explained with a sympathetic wince. “They started dropping bombs not long after we rescued the victors. It is completely destroyed, Haymitch, I’m sorry.”

It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of icy water down his neck. Twelve… He had hated that place with a passion but only as much as he had loved it. The old house in the Seam, the Hob, the place near the mine they used to play at when they were kids, the meadow where he had smoked his first cigarette, drank his first glass of Ripper’s liquor and kissed Mabel for the first time… And the people…

The people…

“How many survivors?” he asked.

If possible, Plutarch’s wince deepened. He looked positively constipated.

“We don’t know.” the Gamemaker admitted. “There was no way to access the zone undetected, Haymitch. There are still Capitol hovercrafts in Twelve’s air space. No way to get in or out for our troops.”

His heart missed a beat and then started hammering against his chest in pure panic.

“But you got my family out, right?” he snapped. “You got my family out before this _shit_ started.”

He was barely aware of Finnick silently walking around the table to place a restraining hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know at what point he had stood up, he didn’t know at what point he had taken a threatening step toward Plutarch and his assistant. All he knew was that the Gamemaker wasn’t man enough to deliver the news he already knew would kill him.

“There was no way to enter the zone undetected.” Fulvia declared. “And being detected would have jeopardized the whole operation. They aborted the evacuation mission until a safer time.”

“You’re _fucking_ kidding me.” he growled.

His mother…

His brother…

“I’m sorry.” Plutarch added softly.

It wasn’t any consolation.

Neither was punching the table with a helpless cry of rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you hate me? XD What are your thoughts? Is that what you expected? Let me know everyyyything!
> 
> Also, on a side note, please note there won't be a chapter next week because I will be publishing a 7 chapters Christmas story all week so we're going on 14 days hiatus ;) (I know now you hate me even more)


	93. Chapter 93

The hovercraft’s engine only stopped once they were in an underground hangar.

Haymitch’s first look at Thirteen confirmed his suspicions that he would hate the place. For one it was grey, for another everyone was wearing a uniform and acted with the same passion as mindless robots.

“Mr Heavensbee.” a woman called out as soon as their little group stepped out of the hovercraft. Two medics rolled Katniss’ gurney past them, quickly followed by Beetee’s, and Haymitch silently nodded at Finnick to go with them. The boy nodded back, understanding what he expected of him, and squeezed his shoulder one last time before strutting away.

“Madam President.” Plutarch flashed his bright Gamemaker smile. “It is good to finally see you in person. May I introduce Haymitch Abernathy?”

Haymitch was pushed forward by Fulvia. Coin was… _grey_. Grey eyes, grey hair, grey clothes… Her eyes were the most striking. They were a milky color, cold and calculating. The smile that stretched her thin lips was small and completely business-like.

“Of course. It is nice to meet you.” she offered. “Boggs only has good things to say about you. He is quite impressed with your tactical mind, that doesn’t happen often.”

Smoke screens.

He had been acquainted with too many Capitols not to recognize the attempts at winning him over. Coin needed him and thus Coin wanted to be on his good side.

He knew that kind of people.

_Snow_ was that kind of people.  

“Thank you.” he mumbled because, as much as he disliked her on sight, he also needed her cooperation. “I need to get to Twelve.”

There was no point beating around the bush.

“Haymitch…” Plutarch tried to intervene but Coin waved his interruption away.

“Naturally.” she agreed easily, surprising everyone. “The Capitol hovercrafts have finally left the zone. Our team is ready to depart. They were waiting for you. Twelve’s eventual refugees are your people, I thought you would like to be in charge. Soldier Jackson will assist you with military decisions.”

Jackson appeared as if being summoned. She was middle-aged and had a sluggish look to her. He lost no time in following her to the hovercraft, barely shouting over his shoulder at Plutarch to keep an eye on Katniss.

Jackson wasn’t talkative but that suited him. She was efficient though, she commanded her team with a calm authority and the ease of habit. It wasn’t the same kind of hovercraft as the one that had brought them to Thirteen. This one was clearly meant for troop transport. There were no different rooms. Only the cockpit and a large space to store people and ammunition.

The soldier brought him up to speed once they were in the air, showing him a three-dimensional map of Twelve. The destroyed areas were marked in red. The map looked more crimson than anything.

“The Victors’ Village is intact.” he observed.

“The town seems to have taken the blunt of it.” Jackson concurred with a nod.

For the first time since Plutarch had imparted the news, he breathed more easily.

The trip from Thirteen to Twelve wasn’t a long one. He kept watching through the window, something he regretted it at once when he spied the first familiar landmarks of his District. Pillars of smoke were rising in the air, ashes plastered to the plastic window and he feared for the engine for a while. The Seam was ablaze with a chemical fire that, he knew, would take days to die, the town… The town was nothing more than a succession of pits in the ground. Ruins. Everything was in ruins.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Jackson offered quietly. “You had family down there?”

All he could do was give a brisk nod and hope the past tense was unnecessary. With his luck though…

His hand was hurting from the inconsiderate punching of the table – he would have punched Plutarch too if Finnick hadn’t stopped him, murmuring again and again that he hadn’t lost everything yet, that he still had Effie and Katniss and him and that he wasn’t alone – and the scratches Katniss had left on his face were itching with the drop of sweat that ran down his cheeks from his forehead. The heat from the fire was difficult to ignore – or maybe it was just the terror he couldn’t quite control. When the hovercraft landed in a clearing, north of the District, he was ready to throw up.

“The instruments have picked thermal signatures heading north.” Jackson said, adjusting the gun strapped to her chest. “There is no way to tell if they are friends or foes.”

He grabbed the gun another soldier handed him and ordered them all to start walking. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was commanding people but, right then, he knew nothing would keep him from trying to find his family.

He almost headed back to the Village but he already knew Hayden would never have remained in the house. As soon as the first bombs had been dropped, his brother would have taken their mother and run for safety. He _hoped_ so, at least.

And that was when another insidious thought crept upon him.

The Capitol had taken Annie and several other victors from different Districts, according to Plutarch’s reports… What if they had his family too? What if they were planning on using them as a pressure point like they had always done in the past? What if…

He quickened his steps, needing to _know_.

It didn’t take long to reach the people the hovercraft had detected. There were about eight hundred of them – haggard, wounded, covered in soot and ashes, in pajamas for the majority… They were so shocked that none of them reacted faced with the grey armed soldiers who appeared from the surrounding greenery. Haymitch searched the faces, moving up the flow of people, looking, looking…

“Sir!” Jackson called.

He ran faster than he ever ran in his whole life and that included being chased by a mob of Careers in his arena.

He almost wept in relief when he spotted Hayden’s tall frame. His brother was at the very head of the stream of people, in the lead, next to Gale. Hazelle was behind her son with her other children huddled around her, Posy in her arms, Vick in Rory’s… And, next to Hazelle, there were Aster and Prim.

“Haymitch!” Hayden cried out, relieved and tense all at once.

That was when Haymitch’s gaze fell on the woman in his brother’s arms.

“Mama!” He skidded to a stop next to Hayden, reaching for his shoulder and their mother at the same time. Her eyes were open but glassy, her breathing was labored… She didn’t seem totally conscious. “What happened?”

“What do you think _fucking_ happened?” Hayden snapped. “Bombs _bloody_ rained on us! We didn’t know if you were alive, we didn’t know what was _fucking_ happening and now that woman here is saying they’re with Thirteen? What the _fuck_ is happening here, Haymitch ? _What the fuck_  ? And did you know? Did you _fucking_ know ?”

“Hayden, you’re scaring the kids.” Hazelle cut in, placing a hand on his side.

Hayden glanced at Posy’s wobbling lips, at Rory and Vick who were hugging each other tight, and took a big breath. “Mama collapsed after the first bomb was dropped. The noise and the screams…” His brother shook his head, not even trying to hide his anguish. “She couldn’t take it.”

“Katniss?” Prim asked, grabbing Haymitch’s arm in distress.

“She’s fine.” he said, placing a hand on her head, before reaching out to squeeze Aster hand. “She’s in Thirteen.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt but we need to move.” Jackson said. “I can call in for reinforcements.”

“Yeah.” he approved. “Do that.”

“And medics.” she added.

“Yeah, that too.” he sighed. “We’ll take the hovercraft and get people who need urgent medical attention first, yeah?”

“You give the orders, Sir.” Jackson reminded him.

“I can help with the triage.” Aster volunteered. “I will stay behind to wait for the medics. There are a lot of wounded people, they will need a healer.” She didn’t really leave him a choice in the matter so he nodded. “Your mother will have to go first. Her heart… She needs monitoring and more help than I can give. You take Prim too, I want her safe and she can keep an eye on the wounded on the way there.” She was gone before he could argue and he waved Jackson away to do as she saw fit.

“What does she mean you’re in charge?” Hayden growled. “You were a part of this? You knew it would happen?”

“Rebellion, that’s what’s going on.” he clarified. “I didn’t know they would bomb us, no. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

He reached out to brush his mother’s grey hair away from her face but Hayden stepped back, putting her out of reach.

“You’re _fucking_ kidding me.” his brother snapped. “We said _no more secrets_ , Haymitch.”

“I lied.” he hissed. “I lied to you. I lied to the kids. I lied to Effie. _I_. _Lied_. I’m a liar, Hayden, that’s who I _am_. Now stop being a _fucking_ idiot and…”

“Don’t talk to him like that.” Gale stepped closer.

“Back down, boy.” Haymitch warned, the stress of the last few hours becoming way too much for him to handle that calmly.

“Don’t talk to my son like that.” Hazelle warned him. “And don’t talk to your brother like that either. He has a right to be upset. We all do.”

“Oh, _sure_.” Haymitch sneered. “ _Poor_ _Hayden_.”

“We’ve just been bombed, Haymitch.” Prim piped out quietly. “People died. A lot of people.”

“And that’s my fault, _how_?” he spat. “I’m not the Capitol. I saved as many people as I could. I did _what I could.”_

It was Katniss accusing him of leaving Peeta behind all over again. It was the knowledge that the boy and Jo were now at the hands of butchers. It was the fact that Chaff had died in general indifference and he hadn’t had time to sit and properly register that fact yet. It was all the destruction he had seen while flying over the District. It was Effie probably crying over the fact that her parents were dead because she had chosen him and the kids. It was Cinna and Portia being seemingly gone from the surface of the Earth.

All that was on him.

And he couldn’t _take_ _it_.

“Nobody said it was your fault and I’m sure you did.” Prim granted softly. “But people are upset right now so maybe… Stop shouting.”

It wasn’t how he had wanted it to go. What he _really_ wanted was to hug his brother and bury his face in his mother’s neck.

The girl had a point though.

People were upset, hurt, crying, whining in pain, or staring.

“Where are the Mellarks?” he asked, taking a look around. “And Undersee?”

He needed to get Peeta’s family to safety like he had to protect Katniss’. They were the priority because the boy would want him to. And then he needed Undersee because there would probably be some official _shit_ to do with Thirteen and Coin would want to meet their representative and…

“They’re dead.” Hayden said.

“Almost nobody from town made it.” Gale added. “We barely made it out ourselves.”

The survivors were almost all from the Seam, Haymitch realized when he took another look at the people around them.

“How…” he frowned.

“Gale saved us.” Hazelle declared with unabashed pride. “After the Games’ live feed was cut… He saw the first hovercraft, he told everyone to get out.”

The boy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t alone, Hayden helped.”

Haymitch didn’t even have it in him to be surprised.

“Don’t glare like that, I couldn’t leave them.” his brother snapped and the ‘ _I’m not you’_ was clearly audible to him. Because, to his brother like to Katniss, he was the one who always left people behind. “I made sure Aster, Prim and Mama were safe in the woods and I came back for Hazelle and the kids.”

“Good.” he said despite how reckless it had been.

“Uncle Mitch?” Posy’s little voice rang out. “It was _really_ scary. Can we go home now?”

“Sir, we’re ready to depart with the first group.” Jackson called from a few feet away.

“Okay.” Haymitch said, placing a hand on Prim’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” He was talking to the whole group but nobody moved. “What now?”

His frustration was giving him a piercing headache.

“We’re not wounded. We’re not an emergency.” Hayden argued. “And someone needs to stay behind. Those people… They need someone to talk for them.”

“Oh, and that’s _you_?” he scoffed.

“They trust Hayden.” Hazelle said softly. “He saved us. And he’s our victor.”

One heroic act and Twelve was _finally_ realizing that?

How much more did _he_ need to do to get some moderate level of consideration and respect?

“Yeah, and what am I?” Haymitch asked bitterly. Hazelle opened her mouth and closed it again without saying anything. She, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed by that blunder. “Yeah, better not answer that.” He looked at his brother. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“I’m not giving you a choice.” Hayden retorted, handing him their mother. What else could he do but cradle her close to his chest? She was so light… Her head fell on his shoulder, her body was completely limp… Hayden clasped his arm. “Take her, okay? I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll need someone to help me with the refugees in Thirteen.” he insisted. “If you want to play mayor, you can do it there.”

“Take Gale.” Hazelle suggested and immediately lifted her hand when the boy started protesting. “Stop it. Take your brothers and your sister, I will stay with Hayden. Think about Katniss, she will want to see you.”

“I doubt it.” Gale snorted. “She has her baker.”

“We couldn’t get Peeta out.” The words left Haymitch’s mouth before he could stop them.

“Oh, _now_ you’re _fucking_ kidding me!” Hayden shouted again. “You left the boy behind?!”

“Yeah.” he snarled. “ _Totally_ on purpose too. What? You’re not happy? At least your stepson has a chance now…”

He and his brother glared at each other.

“What’s a stepson?” Posy asked, breaking the tension.

“Never mind that, baby.” Hazelle was quick in answering doing some glaring of her own.

Gale’s eyes had widened and he was now looking from Hazelle to Hayden with growing horror.

“What about Effie?” Hayden accused. “Did you leave her behind too?”

“She’s in Thirteen.” he growled.

“Sir!” Jackson insisted.

“Yeah, yeah!” he replied. He adjusted his grip on his mother and spared a last glance for Hayden. “Don’t get yourself killed, baby brother.”

The hike back to the hovercraft was difficult but the trip to Thirteen was actually worse. They were surrounded by dying people. He was sitting in a corner, his mother protectively cradled against his chest, Posy snuggled against him on one side and Vick clutching Iris’ skirt in his fist on his other side, as close to him as he could get. Gale had wandered away to help out, Prim was taking care of the wounded as well as she could and Rory had offered to assist her. Haymitch was wondering what it was with the Everdeen girls that had the Hawthorne boys so infatuated.

He leaned his head against the hovercraft wall and closed his eyes.

“Uncle Mitch?” Posy whispered, almost too quietly in the surrounding whimpers, cries, and sobbing noises. He wished the kid would just shut up but she was scared and she kept asking questions he didn’t have the answers to, like if the people were nice in Thirteen, if they had cookies, if the people who had died were with her Daddy now…

“Yeah?” he sighed.

“What’s a stepson?” she asked. “Is it like a stepmother? Lily has a stepmother. It’s not her real Mommy but it’s like a Mommy.”

“Same for a stepson.” he half shrugged, careful not to disturb his mother’s rest. “It’s not your real son but it’s like one.”

“Where’s Lily?” Posy asked suddenly, looking around as if her little friend was about to magically appear. Her little lips started wobbling and Haymitch _couldn’t_ take it.

“She’s fine.” he lied. What was another lie anyway? He didn’t know who Lily was, he didn’t know if she had made it out of Twelve but he just knew he _couldn’t_ bear it if Posy started crying. “Try to sleep, sweetheart.”

It was an impossible thing to ask for, all the more so given the surrounding pain. The place reeked of blood and death and he regretted not leaving the kids with Hayden and Hazelle.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Posy continued, undisturbed.

“Sure.” he muttered.

“Sometimes I want Uncle Hayden to be my Daddy. Is that wrong?” she asked innocently.

Of course, given his luck, that was the moment Rory chose to wander back toward them. “Posy! You can’t say things like that!”

“Why?” Vick piped. “I want him to be too.”

“Okay, kids. Fight for another time.” he interrupted firmly. He didn’t want to be a referee in that particular story.

Naturally, it was right when the kids had started to settle that they landed.

Medics and gurneys were waiting for them. He carefully settled his mother on one and followed closely, supplying the needed information to the doctors, trailed all the way to the hospital floor by Prim, Gale and his siblings. He was strongly reminded of goslings following a goose.

His mother was conscious by the time they arrived in the hospital, she reached for his face, her eyes bright with tears and he pressed a kiss on her wrist. He only relented to the doctor’s insistence that he let them do their job once one of them told him, with enough certainty for him to relax, that she was most likely going to be fine. He remained in the little exam room, trying to stay out of the way while they examined her, too aware of the kids crowding the doorframe. Prim was impatiently shuffling on her feet, clearly yearning to see her sister and Gale looked in the same hurry. Haymitch couldn’t find it in himself to leave his mother’s side though.

He had never been as relieved to see Plutarch. The Gamemaker was alone, dressed in a grey uniform that didn’t flatter his figure at all. It made him look overweight. It was such a Effie thought to have, Haymitch almost smirked. They had been together for so long, they were rubbing off on each other.

“You found your mother, I see.” Plutarch said, after politely greeting the kids. “What about your brother?”

Haymitch finally moved from his mother’s room to join everyone in the corridor. “He stayed behind. I need to check on Katniss, can you get Effie here? I need her to stay with my mother.”

That was an acceptable compromise to his overprotective nature. He trusted Effie. And he would feel better knowing they were both in the same place.

The Gamemaker cleared his throat. “Yes, about _that_ …”

“What did she do, now?” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me… She made a fuss because of the uniform… I will get her under control, just leave her be for now. I need her here.”

Plutarch watched him warily for a second and Haymitch understood. He did. Really, he _did_. It was obvious. Plain and _obvious_.

But he didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to know.

Enough was enough.

“Get Effie here, Plutarch.” he repeated.

It was in between a threat and a plea, in between a growl and a whine.

“She never made it to Tigris’ shop, Haymitch.” the Gamemaker said. “I’m sorry.”


	94. Chapter 94

“She never made it to Tigris’ shop, Haymitch.” the Gamemaker said. “I’m sorry.”

The words echoed in his ears. For a second, he couldn’t understand them. It was gibberish. Nothing made sense and nothing registered. Prim slipped her hand in his, watching him with some wariness while Plutarch kept talking and talking. There was a hissing sound in his head. White noise.

_I need you to tell me you love me._

He should have known.

He wanted to punch a wall, to scream in agony, to claw his heart straight out of his chest because it was _aching_ , _fucking aching_ , and he was in so much _pain_ …

He couldn’t move.

The storm was happening inside his head but his body… His body had already given up, had already understood what his mind was raging against: she was lost.

“She went to her parents’ house.” he deduced flatly. “They had just arrested her father. I told her to go to the shop, she promised she would.” He laughed. It took him by surprise, it was _so_ broken it shocked him. “Guess she’s the best liar after all.”

_I need you to tell me you love me._

He should have.

“Let’s hope she is.” Plutarch sighed, rubbing his face. “There’s no way to warn Tigris. If they think Effie knows something and they torture her…”

“Not in front of the kids.” Gale cut in.

The Gamemaker’s eyes darted to the little girl clinging to Haymitch’s pants and then to the boys who were pretending to be undisturbed by it all – and failing miserably.

“Yes, of course.” Plutarch nodded before launching into a list of everything they needed to organize for Twelve’s refugees. The Capitol man was talking to _him_ , Haymitch figured, but he couldn’t even begin to care. Fortunately, Gale shot him a glance and took everything in stride, stepping up and volunteering to organize the refugees. Plutarch directed the boy to Boggs and then, after assuring Haymitch his mother was in the best hands possible and that they would only be a few corridors away, guided him and Prim to Katniss’ hospital room – truth be told, he felt so numb he would have followed anyone anywhere. “She’s still asleep. She won’t wake up for a few hours.”

The girl looked dreadful and, suddenly, looking at her lying on a hospital bed was more than he could take.

Haymitch left Prim with Plutarch and wandered around until he found Finnick’s room. The young man watched him from the bed, where he was sitting cross-legged, worrying a short length of rope between his fingers. Haymitch sat heavily on the bed and stared right ahead. His heart felt so badly constricted in his chest that he was wondering if he was having a heart attack.

“She didn’t make it to the hovercraft.” he whispered eventually. “She’s not here. I left her behind.”

Finnick didn’t say anything.

There was nothing to say.

Four’s victor placed his hand on his shoulder and left it there until Plutarch dragged him away again, chatting about meetings, communicuffs, Command and Special Defense… Everything was swarming inside his head but the Gamemaker didn’t seem to notice. The Capitol man dropped him at what would be his family’s compartment, with the clear order to put on the mandatory uniform and to join them in Command as soon as possible.

The family compartment was small, making him wonder about what it was like for those who were alone. It would have fitted in their living-room. There was a small living area with a table, four chairs and a plastic window that gave on the corridor – the first thing he did was to draw the curtain closed – a small bedroom with two sets of two bunk beds and a smaller bathroom. _Small_ was the operative word of the place – and _efficient_.

He found three welcoming kits on the table. He opened one to find a map of the District, two grey uniforms – obviously hands-me-down since they were frayed and discolored in places – a black sweater, a collection of first necessity items, and a heavy manila folder with _The Rules_. There were a lot of rules. His fingers clenched around the folder and, suddenly, he flung it at the wall.

It didn’t bring him any relief.

He collapsed on one of the chairs and doubled over, clasping his head in his hands in a futile attempt at stopping the sudden wave of nausea. She had been shadowed by Peacekeepers well before the Reaping, she had said she was certain they thought she was involved… And even if she ever managed to convince them she wasn’t a part of the rebellion…

It wouldn’t change anything.

That wasn’t why they wanted her. They wanted her because of _him_. They wanted her because, one night, six and a half years earlier, he had followed her to her apartment and had done the selfish thing. He had ignored so many opportunities to end this thing, to put her safety _first…_ And every time he had chickened out. He had caved to his greedy needs.  

His eyes were burning. He tried to swallow back the lump in his throat but a few tears escaped him, rolling down his nose and dripping on the floor. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, pulling at his hair.

Loosing Peeta alone would have been enough to break him.

But the list kept going on and on… Cinna, Portia, Seeder, Blight, _Mags_ _and_ _Chaff_ … And so many others… Jo missing…

And Effie…

Effie, he couldn’t take.

Effie, he couldn’t accept.

He stood up and started pacing, needing an outlet to that anger that was burning through his veins. Why had she gone back? She _knew_ it was a trap. _She_ _knew_. And she had let him think he would see her again in a matter of hours when she knew _fucking_ well…

_I need you to tell me you love me._

Would it have changed anything if he had actually said the words? Or had her mind already been made at that point and had she simply been looking for courage?

It was selfish but he was angry with her. He _hated_ her at that second because he loved her too much. She should have known losing her would destroy him. He had warned her enough times.

He had been standing there, talking about putting a ring on her finger, and she…

The door of the compartment opened and, for a moment, he and his brother stared at each other steadily.

Hayden was dirty, covered in soot and sweat, his clothes were tainted with blood Haymitch hoped wasn’t his. His brother’s expression was severe. “Heavensbee said you were here. He also said you’re needed in Command.”

Haymitch nodded once. Was there anything else to do? He peeled the navy shirt off his skin and replaced it with the grey shirt. He was taking off his belt when it occurred to him Hayden had yet to move. A glance confirmed his brother was staring at him.

“Look, whatever it is you’re hating me for now, I don’t have time for it.” he spat. “So either spill it or get a move on.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t warn me. _Us_.” his brother, shaking his head. “We mean so little to you?”

He would have laughed at the irony of that question if he hadn’t wanted to cry so _bloody_ much.

“I warned you.” he denied. “And you know what? _Fuck you_. Stop acting like you lost everything. Stop acting like you’re the _fucking victim_.”

“We lost _our_ _District_!” Hayden shouted back, his voice hoarse. He slammed the sliding door shut with so much violence it bounced right back open. “People are dead, Haymitch. _Dead_. And we could have been amongst them. Does that mean _nothing_ to you?”

“You’re fine. Mama’s fine. Your little adopted family’s fine. The whole District is swooning at your feet. What are you complaining about?” he snarled. It was unfair. He knew it was unfair but…

“You’re the worst piece of _shit_ I’ve ever seen.” Hayden sneered. “You don’t even care at all, do you?”

Haymitch’s chuckles were dark and a little on the hysterical side.

“My friends are _dead_. Jo and Annie are _missing_. _Peeta_ is missing.” He forced the words out through his ragged breathing. “They’re as good as dead, do _you_ get that? Do _you_ care at all? They’re going to _rip them to shreds_. They’re going to…” He stopped talking and turned his back to his brother, closing his eyes and trying to calm down so he wouldn’t start hyperventilating. He wasn’t going to weep like a little kid. He _wasn’t_. He would get through this. He had to. For Katniss, if nothing else.

He heard the grating sound of metal against metal that indicated the door was slowing being closed once more.

“I’m sorry.” Hayden offered sincerely. “I’m _sorry_ but it doesn’t excuse everything. You should have warned me.”

“I did. I tried.” he sighed.

It was always the same with his brother: _should have, could have_ … Whatever he did, it always was the wrong thing.

“Crappy warnings.” Hayden scoffed. “I was expecting things to get tough with Peacekeepers, not… not _a rebellion_ , not _Thirteen_ …”

“I couldn’t tell you.” he apologized.

“Yeah, that’s the story of our lives.” his brother snickered bitterly. “You couldn’t tell me. You can _never_ tell me.”

Haymitch rubbed his face with both hands, wishing he could just collapse somewhere with a bottle of liquor.

He didn’t want to fight with Hayden right now. Or rather _he_ _wanted_ _to_ a bit too much. He wanted an outlet to that helpless rage swirling in his stomach but that wouldn’t be a good idea. Feeding those impulses… 

“Effie’s gone.” he whispered.

It was almost a plea for help.

Because he didn’t think he could do it. Not by himself. Even for Katniss. If she died at the hands of the Capitol… If she _died_ , there was _nothing_ left for him to live for. She was his everything, his salvation and his future. He had been clinging to their relationship for the last few years. It was the only thing keeping him sane. _She_ was the only thing keeping him sane. When the ghosts came at night, when the nightmares raged, when his mind would wander to what his _special appointments_ had forced him to do… She was the only one he trusted to soothe him, the only one he confided in, the only one he could bear to touch without flinching… _The only one_. And he _couldn’t_ lose her. Simple as that. Losing Mabel had almost killed him but losing Effie would _destroy_ him. 

He wanted comfort from his brother, he _needed_ comfort…

“What?” Hayden asked, stunned. “ _No_. You said she was here. You said…”

“She missed the hovercraft.” Haymitch explained, his voice completely flat. “I think she went back to her parents. Stupid move. They’ve got her now.”

“You left her behind.” his brother accused, out of breath. “You _fucking_ left her behind!”

“Yeah.” he laughed without any humor. “I left her behind. Sure.”

He should have turned back to face Hayden. He didn’t see the punch coming. Hayden slammed his fist between his shoulder blades. He fell to his knees, the breath knocked out of him and he was surprised enough that his brother managed to yank him up by the collar of his shirt. That was all Hayden had time to do though. Haymitch hit him in the stomach and Hayden doubled over.

“You promised you would never hurt her, you _son of a bitch_!” Hayden screamed.

It would have gotten much worse if someone hadn’t knocked on the door at that point. It was slid open before they had time to answer and Gale stood there, clean from all traces of soot and wearing his brand new uniform. The boy seemed taken aback for a second and then he scowled.

“You’re okay?” Gale asked.

That was meant for Hayden so Haymitch got to his feet and left without a second glance.

At that second, he missed Peeta something fierce.  

The feeling didn’t lessen in the following days.

°O°O°O°

Effie wiped the blood from Johanna’s upper lip, careful not to touch the actual cut. It didn’t stop the younger woman from wincing in pain.

“We will be just fine.” she lied.

Johanna scoffed and it soon turned into a cough. “Deluded much?”

They had never managed to agree on anything, the two of them, and yet Effie had always felt some fondness for Seven’s victor. It was hard to look at her and not remember the girl Finnick had carried right into her old apartment. They could never see eye to eye and _friends_ was a far-stretched term to apply to their relationship but she didn’t think they were _enemies_ either.

They had been sharing a cell for two days and they hadn’t killed each other yet, at least. Well… Of course, other people were already trying to do that for them so…

She sat down next to Johanna and let her head fall on the younger woman’s shoulder, needing the human comfort more than she feared the gibes that would be thrown at her. Jo kept uncharacteristically silent though, proof if she needed one that the victor was in pain and scared too.

“I don’t know anything.” she said softly, almost as a reflex. She had been repeating those words for a long time now, ever since she had reached her parents’ house and Peacekeepers’ hands had slammed on her arms to restrict her movements. She had known from the beginning Haymitch was right and it would be a trap. She _had_ known. She had hoped it would be enough to convince them to leave her parents alone. Her father might have been collecting forbidden books but so did a lot of people… And her mother, at least, had done nothing wrong… That hadn’t stopped them from arresting everyone.

At least, there had been dignity in that arrest. Her parents had been taken in Peacekeepers’ custody with their heads high. They hadn’t screamed their innocence, they hadn’t cried… Effie had followed their example, determined to keep her only secret to herself. She couldn’t betray Tigris. Sometimes, Tigris was all she could think about in her need to protect her.

The stylist was her only piece of information.

They had tossed her in an interrogation room at first. They had screamed at her and tried to frighten her – and she _had_ been frightened, _very badly_ frightened – but she had refused to say anything except “I don’t know anything.”

Then it had become ugly.

They had shoved her in a cell eventually. She had perked up a little when she had recognized Portia but her friend had been broken beyond recognition, her face had been beaten to the point she couldn’t really open her eyes and her jaw wasn’t working properly. Cinna was dead. That had been the only thing Portia had muttered. _Cinna was dead_.

Effie thought that was what had truly broken the stylist.

She could understand.

The Peacekeepers had told her Haymitch was dead but she had refused to believe it. She _couldn’t_ believe it.

And then they had found other ways to get her to talk. Ways she didn’t want to think about. Ways she was happy to pretend never happened because it had been worse than if they had beaten her to death.

She had never been hurt in her life. She could still remember the shock she had felt when Enobaria had slapped her all those years ago. That probably had been the worst pain she had ever endured up until that point. How naïve she had been. How _innocent._

There were so many types of pain…

Not all of them were physical. 

Eventually, they probably had started to believe her when she said she didn’t know anything because they had begun to use her to get _Peeta_ to talk and, no matter how many times the boy repeated the same thing she did, they were never happy.

They never let her share his cell. They always tossed her with Johanna or Portia or sometimes Annie, whoever was closer. Annie was mostly left alone and for that Effie was grateful. The girl had suffered too much already.

“Good for you.” Jo mumbled, turning her head away from Effie to spit out some blood. One of the victor’s teeth was loose. They had shaved her head a little while earlier – it might have been a few days, Effie wasn’t sure, there was no keeping sense of time in that place, they were in hell and time stopped in hell – and the escort had been terrified they would do the same to her golden locks. Such a shallow thought, she had mused afterwards. But they had left her hair alone and for that she was glad. It was tangled, matted with blood and things she didn’t want to linger on, but it was still there.

“Haymitch loves my hair.” she whispered. She was going crazy, she knew. Sometimes she couldn’t keep the thread of her own thoughts, other times she found herself talking out loud. The only constant was her determination to keep silent on Tigris’ implication. She wouldn’t say anything. She _wouldn’t_. She had gone too far now, she had sacrificed too much.

“It’s just hair.” Jo grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Come closer. I’m cold.”

She snuggled closer to Johanna as requested, glad for the warmth of her body. Their prison uniforms were white, thin, dirty and torn in places. They smelt bad too but Effie had stopped noticing.

“One of my friends jumped through a window so she wouldn’t talk.” she murmured.

“Quick. Tell them we want a room with a view.” Johanna deadpanned.

Effie laughed. It wasn’t _that_ funny but she couldn’t help herself. She laughed until her side hurt. Jo was laughing too, so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure the tears were from hilarity or pain but they were going crazy so she wasn’t certain it made a difference.

“Do you think Haymitch will be very crossed with me?” she asked, once they had calmed down. And then she rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. “Of course he will be furious. And hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt him, you know. I love him _so much_ … I never thought it was possible to love someone that much… But I had to see my parents. I had to…” She took a deep breath. “If I die and you survive and you ever find him, would you… Would you tell him it wasn’t his fault and that I loved him? He will blame himself. I know he will. But he must know I loved him with everything I had.”

“ _Fuck_ , will you ever _shut_ _up_?” Johanna growled. “I’m ten seconds away from begging them to torture me if that means not hearing you mooning over him anymore.”

“But will you?” she insisted. “Will you tell him?”

“I’ll die way before you, Trinket.” Seven’s victor snorted.

“I don’t think so.” she sighed. “I’m expendable, you’re not.”

Johanna snickered. “You’re Haymitch Abernathy’s _fucking_ lover. They’re not going to kill you so soon, believe me. They will save it until they’re sure he sees it.”

She hoped Johanna was wrong because she didn’t want Haymitch to suffer through that another time. Mabel had been enough.

She also hoped Haymitch would forgive her. 

Hope was all she had left.

Then again, it had always been her specialty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit I teared up when I write that chapter XD Haymitch isn't going to have an easy time in Thirteen... Now I know everyone must hate Hayden (or me) but try to keep in mind that from his perspective, he just went through something pretty traumatizing and he had no idea what Haymitch had been up to, he is in the complete dark about what motivates his brother. The same way Katniss blames Haymitch for Peeta's loss. Meanwhile Effie is rotting in prison having laughing fits with Jo haha... Did you like this chapter? What did you like? Didn't like? What do you think is going to happen next? Let me know your thoughts!


	95. Chapter 95

“The doctors say Katniss is doing better.” Plutarch announced. Briefings in Command were always painfully long, often nothing more than an endless repetition of what had been said the previous day, but Haymitch looked up at that particular piece of news. From the other end of the table, the Gamemaker must have sensed his gaze because he gave him an apologizing smile. “She still doesn’t want to see you, Haymitch.”

Why would she? It had only been three weeks since the Quell. Katniss could hold grudges longer than that. 

“And she’s still not ready to fulfill her role in this rebellion.” Coin interjected. “We have no time to lose with this. What about Ten?”

The conversation drifted again and Haymitch went back to acting on autopilot, answering when spoken to and registering facts and news he didn’t quite know what to do with. More and more refugees were making their way to Thirteen every day from various Districts and some even managed the trip all the way from the Capitol. Cressida and Messala amongst them. Their names stood out because Plutarch was planning to give them the responsibility of filming Katniss’ propos and Haymitch automatically listened more attentively when it came down to Katniss. There were no news from the captive victors and Coin had no interest in having them freed – too many risks, not enough reasons. The rebellion was currently fighting a two front war: trying to gain the upper hand in Eleven and battling their way through Ten. People were on their side but the Capitol had the manpower.

“Abernathy? Your thoughts?” Coin called him out at some point.

He blinked and tried to focus on the immediate problem at hand. The President was frustrated with him and his short attention span but she also valued his tactical input enough that he got away with it most days.

The meeting lasted for hours and he was ready to kill someone for some food when he walked out of Command. It wouldn’t be long before the communicuff on his wrist started beeping though. It never was.

Plutarch caught up with him as he passed his wrist under the scan in the dining hall. He took the tray with his allotted daily calories and glanced at the Gamemaker who was staring at the uninviting food with a sorrowful look.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“They have released Beetee this morning. He’s still in a wheelchair but he will get his position as head of Special Defense.” Plutarch said, as they found a deserted table and settled. There were a few refugees from Twelve a few tables across but Haymitch wasn’t in the mood to mingle and he wouldn’t be well received anyway. It seemed everyone had taken sides in the silent war raging between him and Hayden… And since the Gamemaker was too perceptive… “How’s your brother?”

“No idea. I haven’t talked to him since we arrived.” Haymitch snorted. “Busy with his new job as acting mayor, I guess.” He shrugged. “Whatever. Katniss. What else?”

Plutarch switched topic easily, telling him of the girl’s progresses even though there were few. She, at least, wasn’t completely catatonic anymore.  “Gale is a great help.” the Capitol concluded. “They’re   talking of taking her back to Twelve. She’s been asking to visit. The doctors say it would help the truth sink in.”

He stabbed a turnip at that idea. Twelve… He only had to close his eyes to remember the pillars of smoke and the deep pits in the ground…

“I never want to go back there again.” he muttered.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go with her.” Plutarch winced.

He shook his head no. “There are things I can’t face without a bottle.”

“Prohibition act, remember?” the Gamemaker joked.

“Even if they had alcohol, I wouldn’t get wasted.” he snorted. “I made a promise to someone.”

He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have broken that promise if there actually had been alcohol around this place. It was cold, dark and lonely and Effie had broken their promises first by leaving him.

“Fulvia found out some things, Haymitch.” Plutarch said suddenly, putting down his fork to look at him. “You won’t like it.”

It was like someone was crushing his heart right in his chest. “She’s dead?”

He didn’t need to specify who the _she_ was. There was only one woman he was so desperate to find after all.

“No. No…” the Gamemaker was quick in reassuring him. “We still don’t know where she is and what they want with her although we can guess…”

“Yeah.” he snorted bitterly. “I can guess, yeah.”

They would dangle her in front of his eyes… Taunt him with her. They would hurt her if he made an open move.

Fulvia would have _loved_ for him to record a propo to send out there since Katniss still wasn’t in any shape of playing the Mockingjay and Finnick was more or less going crazy in his hospital room. Hayden hadn’t even been considered for the task. From what she had to work with, he was the most popular victor. The Capitol playboy long before Finnick had come to steal that title…

He had refused straight out.

He knew any public appearance from him would result in punishment for Effie and he didn’t want that, he couldn’t live with that.

“It appears her parents and her sister were executed for treason.” Plutarch said. “Rufus managed to escape a little while longer. Clever man. I didn’t know him well but I liked him.” The Gamemaker shook his head. “They found him eventually. He’s dead too now.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, running a shaking hand through his hair. Did she know? Had they made her watch? Was it in retribution for something she had refused to say or do?

“What about the girl?” he asked.

“What girl?” Plutarch frowned.

“Lyssa and Rufus, they had a little girl.” he said impatiently. He hadn’t been aware he knew her sister’s and her brother-in-law’s names until they passed his lips. Perhaps he had been more attentive to all her late night prattling that he had thought. “Safia.” He was pretty sure that was the girl’s name. “She’s around… five.”

Plutarch shook his head. “I don’t know anything about a kid… But like I said, Rufus was clever. He probably hid her somewhere safe.”

“Let’s hope so.” Haymitch sighed, and forced himself to finish his tasteless turnips. She would recover from losing her family, he hoped, but she would never forgive herself if her niece had been killed .

They talked about the situation in Ten for a while and he listened to Plutarch complaining about the lack of coffee and the strict regulations while finishing his plate. He didn’t have much of an appetite but eating what was in front of him was a reflex from his childhood nothing had yet tuned down. Soon enough, the Gamemaker started yawning and excused himself to go to bed before anyone in Command missed him and ordered him back there. He advised Haymitch to do the same, giving a pointed look at the dark bags under his eyes.

Instead of going back to his family’s compartment – where he had only stepped foot in perhaps four times in the last three weeks – he headed to the hospital as was his usual routine every day. He remained in front of Katniss’ open door for a while, out of sight, and listened to the one-sided discussion Prim was having with her sister. After ten minutes of wavering between going in to confront the girl or leaving her to her self-imposed isolation, he walked on to Finnick’s room. They exchanged a few words, some news, some reassurances that the boy was doing alright – he wasn’t but Haymitch wasn’t either so they were like two peas in a pod in their shared misery – and then he moved on to the next stop. It was usually Beetee but since Three’s victor had been released he went straight to his mother, checking his watch on the way to make sure it was late enough that Hayden wouldn’t be there.

In the last three weeks, he had only met his brother in Command during meetings about Twelve’s refugees. If their paths crossed in a corridor, they were happy to ignore each other. Hayden was angry but Haymitch was equally furious with him. He was tired of always being the bad guy. It was so simple in Hayden’s and Katniss’ heads… They were acting like he had _meant_ to leave Peeta and Effie behind. They were acting as if he didn’t miss them or didn’t have _a right_ to miss them.

Well, _fuck_ _it_ , Haymitch had decided. He was done coddling everyone.

His mother’s room was in semi-darkness and the nurse shot him a warning look when she spotted him. He didn’t even acknowledge her, taking a seat on the chair next to the bed in silence. He knew the rule by now: no disturbing the patient when she was sleeping. Iris needed her rest. The nurse tinkled with some of the equipment and then left.

He was staring ahead, lost in thought, when he felt his hand being grasped loosely. Iris’ fingers were dry and looked stiff.

“Haymitch.” she smiled, always happy to see him.

He didn’t know if Hayden had told her about his implication in the rebellion or not, the subject had never been discussed. Iris had just been happy to know both of her sons were alive and well and hadn’t asked any more questions. She had been saddened by Peeta’s and Effie’s absence though but no one had lingered on that, cautious of upsetting her. They were still monitoring her heart. Her doctor said the Capitol Professor had done a remarkable job and that it should hold. Shocks weren’t good for her though and she was still light-headed. She looked aged to Haymitch.

“Hello, Mama.” he replied, his voice a little hoarse. “You should be sleeping.”

“So should you.” she chided him gently. “Go get some rest.”

“Yeah, I’ll go in a little while.” he lied. He had spent the last few nights in this chair or in another chair in Finnick’s room and that suited him just fine. Anything not to go back to the compartment where he would have to face his brother’s resentment and his own guilt.

“The doctor says they will release me soon.” Iris told him, her smile never wavering.

“That’s great.” he said, and he meant it. He was tired of seeing her in a hospital bed.

She reached for his face and stroke his cheek, seeking his eyes. He kept them averted.

“Oh, darling…” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”

What wasn’t? He dragged the chair closer to the bed and leaned over until he could press his forehead against her side, drawing comfort from her presence. The time when a simple hug from her could erase his sorrow was long gone unfortunately but he still appreciated it when she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Did you have bad news?” Iris insisted. “Is it Peeta or Effie?”

“No news.” he replied. There was a brief silence and then he couldn’t keep it in anymore. They hadn’t talked about Effie since the night before the Quell’s announcement, since their fight, and he needed her to understand. “She’s special. She’s not… She’s _special_ , Mama.”

“I know she is.” his mother hummed gently.

“No, you don’t get it.” he denied, closing his eyes so tight it hurt. “She knows me, all of me, and she loves me anyway. Good and bad. Everything I’m ashamed of, she loves it anyway. And they’re going to hurt her because of that.” The lump in his throat made swallowing really hard. “I _lost_ her. She’s the most precious thing I have and I _lost_ her.”

“You didn’t lose her yet, Haymitch.” Iris countered. “Effie is nothing but stubborn. She will find her way back to you. She will fight for you so you must fight for her. You can’t lose hope.”

It was so easy to say that. _So_ easy.

“I destroyed her life.” he countered quietly. _Her family_ … Would she ever forgive him for that? He knew they didn’t always see eye to eye but he also knew she loved them all anyway. “I should have let her go. I should have…”

“The heart wants what it wants, Haymitch.” Iris said, placing her hand at the back of his head. “And she seems to be very much taken with you.”

“She loves me.” he corrected.

“And you?” she prompted with open curiosity.

He wanted to assure his mother of his own feelings but he couldn’t. Effie should be the first to hear it, not Iris. He had promised her he would tell her once they would be together in Thirteen and he would stick to that. He _had_ to stick to that.

Eventually, his mother’s breathing evened out and he straightened up, watching her sleep for a while. He must have closed his eyes too because next thing he knew he was startling awake, batting away the hand that had grabbed his shoulder.

“Easy. It’s only me.” a familiar voice offered.

His eyes met Hazelle’s and he breathed out heavily, trying to get his racing heart under control. A glance told him his mother was still asleep.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled, before checking his watch. “It’s four a.m.”

“I have a laundry shift.” she explained in a whisper, cautious of not disrupting Iris.

Hazelle looked less tired than usual. Thirteen was agreeing with her. Everyone had to work but the workload was manageable compared to what people were used to in Twelve, the shifts were reasonably long and the food kept them healthy and fed. Unfortunately, that meant Hazelle was in a particularly good shape and wouldn’t hesitate to confront him. He knew what was coming even before she folded her arms over her chest and studied him like a hawk. Her long dark hair with the occasional grey strand was pinned up in a practical bun but a wayward lock had escaped and, for a second, he was almost tempted to tug on it like when they were kids.

“When was the last time you slept, Haymitch?” she rebuked him.

“Just took a nap.” he countered, stretching his arms over his head. Several things audibly popped in his back but he ignored the brief pain.

“In a proper bed. Where you can take proper rest.” she argued.

“No time for that.” he mumbled. “I’ve got a rebellion to organize.”

He moved to stand up but she pressed on his shoulder and he fell back on that chair like a puppet. Maybe he was more tired than he had thought he was.

“You’re working yourself to death.” she snapped. “Go back to your compartment and sleep in your bed or _so_ _help_ _me_.”

He smirked, amused despite himself. “Yeah? What you’re gonna do? Swat me with that dirty laundry?” He nodded to the trolley full of hospital sheets she had left at the room’s entrance.

“Maybe I will.” Hazelle warned. “Hayden’s in my compartment if that’s what’s stopping you.”

“Making it official, are we?” he snorted, more bitterly than he meant. He was jealous. There was no denying that. Not about _Hazelle_ but about the fact Hayden _still had_ Hazelle.

“He’s very busy lately, the kids missed him and I had an early shift. Gale can’t always look after them, it’s not fair to ask that of him.” she retorted. “Nothing else. And don’t go putting ideas in my kids’ heads. Posy can’t shut up about stepsons and stepdads…”

“Yeah, newsflash, sweetheart, that’s all coming from her.” he shrugged.  “The kids don’t care, you know. _If that’s what’s stopping you_.” He couldn’t help throwing her own words back to her face.

She averted her eyes. “Posy never knew her father. Robb would have…”

“He would have wanted _what_?” Haymitch scoffed. “Wanted you to remain alone and miserable forever? For his kids to grow up without a dad? Wake up, Hazelle, Hayden is as much their dad as he’s ever going to be. He was there when the girl said her first word, he was there when she took her first steps… Your boys are all looking up to him including Gale and that’s saying something coming from that brat…”

“Don’t call my son a brat.” she hissed.

“Then tell him to keep his hands away from my girl.” he hissed back. “She doesn’t need the drama right now.” He waved that away. “Not the point anyway. The point is: do you love my brother? Because _he_ loves you and if you’re going to break his heart, do it sooner rather than later.”

“I love him.” she snapped defensively. “You know I do. But it’s… It’s complicated, Haymitch.”

She sat on the edge of the bed after making sure Iris was still asleep.

Haymitch leaned back in his chair and watched her. “No, it’s not. You’re here, he’s here. It’s as simple as that. Everyone doesn’t have that chance.”

“Is this about your escort again?” she asked tentatively. She worked hard to suppress the hostility from her voice.

“I’m not the only one missing someone they…” he scoffed and then stopped himself at the last minute. He turned his head away, staring at the grey wall.

“That could also apply to you, you know?” she whispered, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. To catch his attention or comfort him, he wasn’t sure. “Hayden’s right here.”

“I’m fed up of explaining myself to him.” he growled. “He knows where to find me if he wants to talk.”

She sighed. “He’s as stubborn as you. He won’t make the first move. He’s miserable, Haymitch. You don’t get how it was back there… The bombs, the fear…” She shook her head. “He’s worried about Peeta and your escort.”

“She has a name, you know.” he grumbled.

“Effie.” she corrected herself. “I can’t say I get what either of you see in that woman but…”

“Don’t start.” he warned. He wouldn’t be able to take anyone talking _shit_ about her. Someone had tried in Command the second day of his stay, when he was trying to find out where they kept her, and had gotten a broken nose for their troubles. Coin had rebuked him for his methods but nobody had ever said a negative word on Effie ever since. The President needed him in her strategy team and his conditions were clear.

She lifted her hands in a peace offering gesture. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” She took a deep breath. “Look, I will make an effort, okay? You both like her, you don’t often agree on anything… She must be worth something.”

There was a small silence during which he kept staring at the wall.

“I can’t talk to Hayden now.” he confessed after a few seconds. “I can’t take any more _bullshit_. I’m… I’m hanging on by a thead, here, Hazelle. I need to focus on Katniss and the rebellion. And Hayden… I love that kid but he’s always going to blame me for everything that goes wrong in his life and I’m not saying he’s wrong, I’m not saying I don’t deserve it, but… Right now, I can’t take it.”

She pursed her lips with obvious annoyance – with him or with the general situation, he couldn’t tell.

“Fine.” she declared. “But I want you to sleep in a bed from now on. If you won’t take care of yourself, I will force you to do it. As a favor to your precious Effie.”

His communicuff chose that moment to start beeping and he stood up immediately, turning off the thing that ordered him to go to Command before it could wake Iris up.

“Think about what I said.” he insisted. “You have a chance to be happy. Take it and don’t look back.”

He arrived in Command in time to see everything blowing up in Ten. Meanwhile, fights were still raging in Eight, Four, Six and Nine…

Districts were rioting but not every one of them was successful in seceding from the Capitol.

There was no way to try and follow Hazelle’s advice about sleeping in a bed because he barely left Command for the following days. The first time he managed to drag himself to his compartment, he woke up to Plutarch telling him Katniss had gone to Twelve with Gale without much of an escort. He was angry about not being told and even more angry that her protection was so light.

It only got worse when Beetee rushed in Command as fast as his wheelchair would carry him to show them the first Capitol propo. Haymitch’s only consolation was that Peeta looked well enough but he wasn’t stupid enough to trust what they wanted them to see.

Unsurprisingly, people were angry about the boy apparently siding with the Capitol.

Unsurprisingly, that was what got Katniss to agree to be their Mockingjay.

She still wouldn’t see him, not even when she made up a list of conditions – Prim’s idea as he was later told. He chuckled when he heard the part about the kid keeping the cat but sat grim-face through the rest of it. Immunity for the victors was a good idea, rescuing them at the earliest opportunity was even better. He only wished she had thought to include Effie on that list.

Plutarch and Fulvia insisted on shooting the propos in a controlled environment and as soon as possible to counter the Capitol’s own propaganda.

Haymitch told them again and again that it wouldn’t work but his warnings fell into deaf ears. He sat in the control room, out of sight from Katniss, while they got her ready to shoot. Cinna’s uniform was well designed, like everything else that man had ever created, and Haymitch felt a tinge of pain at the thought of the stylist. He pushed it down. There was no time for grieving. He watched Fulvia fuss over her, feeding lines to the girl, and he resented it because it should  have been Effie down there. Effie was the Mockingjay’s escort, not Fulvia, and if Katniss’ confused expression was to be believed, she didn’t like the Gamemaker’s assistant much more than he did.

“Are you ready, Katniss?” Plutarch asked in the mic, before turning to him with a bright confident grin. “Mark my words, Haymitch, this is when the revolution truly starts.”

He marked Plutarch’s words alright. He also marked the ridiculous dialogue Katniss screamed at the top of her lungs.

There was a long and heavy silence in the studio after the third failed “ _People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!”_.

Plutarch looked so disappointed that Haymitch couldn’t contain his acerbic laughter.

He grabbed the intercom from the Gamemaker. To hell with what the girl wanted. He was done staying on the sidelines because she was throwing a tantrum.

“And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies.”


	96. Chapter 96

Haymitch relaxed once Katniss had left the briefing room and he was left alone, sensing a weight being lifted off his shoulders. They had still some way to go to forgive each other but, at least, now, the air was cleared. He hoped the decision to send her to Eight wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass - even if it _had_ been his idea to send her where she could act like herself and not like Plutarch’s Mockingjay puppet.

With a sigh, he pushed himself off the table and mentally prepared himself to what would follow: gear up, board the hovercraft, get ready to see more dead and wounded people… The revolution was easier to deal with from Command. He hated being confronted with the refugees or to the sight of devastation in the Districts, knowing he had helped causing it. It was an ill for a good ultimately and he had always known there would be casualties but he wasn’t completely ready for the reality of everything.

He toyed with the idea of looking for his mother but rejected it in the end. She had been released from the hospital late the previous day and she was supposed to take it easy. Worrying about him _wouldn’t be_ taking it easy.

“Haymitch!”

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, waiting for Boggs to catch up with him with some curiosity. Coin’s second-in-command was always polite if not nice to him and he believed him to be genuine in his friendly attitude, unlike the President who was an hypocritical bitch who would say and do anything to get him to do what she needed.

“Look, I need to talk to you about the team going with Katniss.” Boggs said, tapping his shoulder so Haymitch would know to keep walking with him. There was no time to lose, he figured. “I’ve added your brother to the team. I think he will be a good fit and Katniss knows him. It can’t hurt. I understand you and him are having a feud and I can’t have that impacting on the mission.”

“My brother?” Haymitch repeated with a frown. “My brother’s not a soldier.”

“He passed training a few days ago. He’s cleared for combat.” Boggs replied, a little uncertain. “His instructor was very pleased with him, he recommended him to me.”

Haymitch stopped walking, forcing the soldier to stop too. “You’re _fucking_ kidding me.”

“Look…” Boggs sighed with his usual poise. “Everyone has to contribute in some way here…”

“But they don’t have to become _cannon fodder_.” Haymitch spat. “My brother is _not_ a soldier. He never killed anybody.”

“Neither did most of the people who are enrolling.” the soldier pointed out. “And it was his choice, Haymitch. He’s coming with us to Eight, that’s not up for debate. I just want to make sure you can keep your private life off the battlefield.”

That was difficult to do when almost all the people who made up his private life were _on_ the battlefield.

Finding Hayden was surprisingly difficult but he finally narrowed it down to their family compartment, thanks to Hazelle who seemed to keep tabs on where everyone was: Gale with Katniss, Iris in the hospital with Aster for a checkup, and Hayden in his room. The fact that their mother wasn’t there was a blessing because Haymitch stormed in, grabbed Hayden by the collar and slammed him against the wall, keeping him pinned there by pressing his forearm across his throat.

It was the first time he had been face to face with his brother in a whole month and admittedly it could have gone a little better.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Haymitch shouted in his face.

“What the _fuck_ do _you_ think you’re doing?” Hayden shouted back, struggling to get free and failing. _Some soldier, he is_ ,  Haymitch mentally scoffed. “Let me go!”

“Is that what you’re  going to ask the Peacekeepers when they threaten to put a bullet in your head?” he hissed.

Hayden rolled his eyes but stopped fighting him. “So, you finally took an interest in what I’ve been doing all those weeks.”

Haymitch shoved him harder against the wall. “ _Fuck it_ , Hayden, this _isn’t_ a _fucking_ joke!”

“No, it’s not.” Hayden sneered. “I want to help. I want to be a part of this rebellion.”

“And you couldn’t do that from _here_?” he growled. “I can’t have you out there. _I can’t_.”

“You don’t have a choice.” his brother retorted. “I’m a grown man, I take my own decisions.”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Hayden!” he yelled, certain he could be heard three corridors away and not even caring. “My kids are out there _being cut to pieces_! The woman I _…  She_ is out there being cut to pieces! I only have you, Mama and Katniss left and _watch me_ if you think I will let you put yourself in danger!”

He was so furious he was shaking. He couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to his brother. He _couldn’t_. Putting Katniss out there was a necessity but _Hayden_? There was no reason for Hayden to be in danger. He could film propos in Thirteen, he could help with Katniss, he could help with Twelve’s refugees, he could… 

“I’ll be fine, Haymitch.” Hayden promised, his face and his voice softening slightly. “I did good at training. And I’m a victor too.”

And, no doubt, that was part of the reason he was being assigned to Katniss’ team. More victors on cameras for when the propos would be filmed.

And he would eventually get himself _killed_ because Hayden was a lot of things but he wasn’t a _killer_ , training or no training.

“You’re not a victor.” Haymitch scoffed, cruel, spit flying out of his mouth in his anger.

“Yeah? Beg to differ.” his brother snapped, shoving him away from him. Haymitch let go because it was all so _ridiculous…_ There he had been, protecting Hayden _all this time_ and, like every decision he had ever taken, it was coming back to bite him in the ass. “I won my Games too. I know you like to pretend but you’re not the only _fucking_ victor in the family!”  

_“_ Wake up, baby brother. _I_ won your Games.” he chuckled. “You just spent the whole time cowering away in your cave while _I_ did _all_ the work, sweet-talking Gamemakers into killing everyone but you. You’re _not_ a victor.”

“Liar.” Hayden accused immediately.

Haymitch couldn’t stop chuckling, he was almost hysterical. He ran both hands in his hair, grabbing his own head, feeling as if he was quickly slipping into plain _madness_. He was losing control over everything. Everything he had carefully planned, everything he had done to keep the people he loved safe… Everything was _crumbling to dust_ and he was left with no other choice but to watch as his closest friends and family were being used as pawns on a checkerboard.

“I won your Games.” he repeated.

“No.” Hayden denied, shaking his head, his composure breaking down. “ _No_. I did that _alone_. That’s _mine_.” It was something Hayden had clung to in times he hated his elder brother, Haymitch knew: the knowledge that he was a victor too, that he had some worth. “You’re trying to make everything about you again. You can’t stand it when someone else steals your spotlight.”

“I rigged the Games.” Haymitch insisted. “Just like Finnick rigged them for Annie. You didn’t win. I made you win.”

He could remember when he had confessed this to Effie, the shock and the disbelief on her face at what should have been impossible. Hayden looked shocked alright but there was no disbelief on his face, no doubt on his part that rigging the Games was even possible. He wondered if that was because his brother had figured out how Annie Cresta had won in the first place or if that was because of the deep ingrained childhood belief that there was nothing Haymitch couldn’t do.

“You’re _lying_.” Hayden insisted.

“Am I?” he challenged. “You know me well enough, Hayden. Would I lie about that?”

He could see the clogs and wheels turning in his brother’s head. The repeated accusations that Haymitch always had to be the martyr, the knowledge that Haymitch had been playing the Capitol playboy to protect his family, the fact that Hayden had been reaped as a lesson for him to learn, all the connections he had at his disposal… For all his assertions that Haymitch never told him anything, Hayden knew him pretty well.

“I am a victor.” Hayden repeated, almost pained. “That’s all I had all those years. I am…”

“You’re a victor. Fine.” Haymitch cut him off. “But you’re not a soldier. And I don’t want you out there. Don’t make me watch you die, Hayden. _Don’t_.”

Hayden shook his head again, obviously stunned by that new revelation that Haymitch had been keeping from him for more than half his life. “I’m going to be late. I have to report to the hovercraft.”

“Don’t you…” he started, only to be interrupted by his brother.

“ _Shut_ _up_ , okay?” Hayden shouted before lowering his voice. “I’m sorry Peeta’s missing. I’m sorry _Effie_ ’s missing. I’m sorry you’re in pain. Despite everything going on between us, trust me, _I’m sorry you’re in pain_. But that doesn’t mean you get to stop me from living _my_ life, that doesn’t mean you get to put me in a glass case and hope nothing ever happens to me, that doesn’t mean you get to tell me _what to do_. Victor or not, I’m _thirty-five_ , Haymitch. I’m a grown man. _Stop_ treating me like a child. I’m not throwing a tantrum, I want to do this. There’s no reason you should be the only one helping.”

There was no arguing with that and, aside from ordering one of the soldiers in the hall to arrest him and place him in a cell until the end of the war, there was not much he could do to stop his brother either. And even though the idea was tempting to simply _do that_ , it was a line that Haymitch wouldn’t cross.

The knowledge he hadn’t really won his Games had hurt him, Haymitch could see it plainly. Hayden had never been proud of the way he had won but he had somehow be proud of having survived nonetheless and now… That was something else Haymitch had ripped away from him, he figured.

“Don’t get yourself killed.” he repeated, openly pleading.

Hayden clasped his shoulder on his way out of the compartment but didn’t meet his eyes.

“It would be nice if you stopped hiding things from me.” his brother said, pausing on the threshold. “Every time I think we’re done with the secrets, there’s another one coming.”

Haymitch closed his eyes, feeling an exhaustion that ran deep down to his bones. “I only have one left, baby brother, and that’s not one I want you to ever know.”

The _special appointments_ secret was a Damocles sword hanging over his head, he knew that, but he had managed to keep it from his family for so long… He hoped they would never have to carry that burden.

“Sounds fun.” Hayden snorted. “I hope I don’t have a secret nephew or niece somewhere ‘cause _that_ would take the cake.”

“If there’s one, I don’t know about it.” he shrugged. And wouldn’t _that_ be another brand new kind of nightmare… But no… He had always been careful, particularly with _special_ _appointments_. He might not have been able to decide who, where or how but he had always been adamant condoms were not optionals. He and Effie didn’t use any but she was on birth control and, if she had been pregnant at any point, he would have known about it. “Can we stop fighting? I need my brother, Hayden. I need my best friend.”

“And it’s all about what _you_ need, right? I never was your best friend anyway, that was Chaff. Or Effie.” Hayden pointed out. “I’m just the guy you hide things from.”

“Chaff’s dead.” he said softly, a lump forming in his throat at the thought he would never get to talk to Eleven’s victor again. They hadn’t been on the best of terms before the Quell, barely patching up a friendship the Capitol had almost managed to ruin. “And Effie…” He closed his eyes and turned away. “You should go, you’re going to be late.”

The door was slid shut and Haymitch let out a shaky breath. He would give himself a couple of minutes to collect himself and then he would push all thoughts of Effie and Peeta at the back of his mind and he would go out there ready to help Katniss.

He startled when he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder but didn’t resist when Hayden pulled him in a hug. His brother always gave bear hugs and that was all Haymitch needed right now.

“We’ll find Effie.” Hayden promised. “We’ll get them all back.”

“It’s Mabel all over again.” he whispered. “But worse.”

“Effie’s tough and she’s clever. She’ll make it.” his brother declared. “And they need Peeta alive right? We’re going to win this war. And you and me are going to call a truce until it’s done, yeah? We’re done fighting.”

“Thank you.” Haymitch breathed out.

“I’m not your best friend. I’m your brother.” Hayden insisted, briefly squeezing the back of his neck before stepping away. “Now come on, we have a propo to shoot and I can’t wait to see Katniss trying to act for the camera. That should be fun.”

Eight was anything but fun and Haymitch almost punched the hovercraft’s wall more than once.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that Katniss didn’t follow instructions and ran to do her own thing – and he _wasn’t_. He wasn’t surprised that the girl tore her earpiece away or that Gale followed her, he wasn’t surprised that Hayden remained close on their heels, he wasn’t surprised the camera team managed to keep up and he wasn’t surprised by the impressive number of imaginative curses Boggs knew.

When it was all over, Plutarch was, of course, delighted despite Katniss’ new injuries. _Fire is catching and if we burn you burn with us_ would be an excellent catch phrase, better – the Gamemaker had, at least, the decency to admit it – than _we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice_. It was agreed on the way back to keep Katniss’ decision to run away on her own from President Coin. Haymitch was relieved that he and Boggs seemed to see eye to eye on that front.

That didn’t stop him from threatening Katniss to have a headphone glued to her head if she ever did something like that again.

It didn’t stop him either from shouting abuse at Gale and Hayden for letting her go on her own and placing themselves in danger at the same time. It was a little hypocritical, of course, because nobody could control Katniss, not even _him_. She was living fire. The only thing you could hope to do with fire was push it in the right direction.

All in all, though, everyone was happy with the resulting propo – except Aster who raged at him for two hours about how he could have, _at least,_ warn her that her daughter would be going to a battlefield. When he was done with one crazy mother, he was faced with a second one in the person of Hazelle who wasn’t much happier with the fact Gale had gone without informing her.

Although, _Hayden_ suffered the brunt of that argument and Haymitch wasn’t sorry for it because it was _a little_ funny to see him sweat. It eventually came to Iris’ ears and that was absolutely less funny because she scolded them both like the little boys they weren’t anymore. Their mother wasn’t exactly happy with Hayden’s decision to enroll but she declared herself proud of him anyway.

Fulvia’s new idea consisted on shooting small propo pieces about the victors who had died during the Quell. The task fell on Finnick. It was a way to keep him busy, to get him on camera and also a good idea to connect with other Districts. If Haymitch hadn’t been so hostile to the Capitol woman, he might have even said so aloud.

Weeks passed in the same fashion. There were more propos with Peeta and Johanna, more executions, more battle tactics to discuss as the Capitol and Thirteen fought over who would control Panem… Katniss seemed to get stable if not better but Haymitch felt powerless, unable to help her despite his best attempts. She was obsessed with Peeta being in danger, confused by her feelings for Gale, and generally too traumatized to function properly. Eventually she would collapse, Haymitch was waiting for it to happen.

He pulled strings, to Hayden’s utter annoyance, so his brother would never actually see a frontline. He was still dispatched to some other Districts but either with the medic teams or once everything was over. The first time he truly found himself in a combat situation, Hayden came back to Thirteen bruised, covered with blood and mud, and he locked himself in their compartment.

It was Hazelle who came to fetch Haymitch from Command because Hayden wouldn’t talk to her or Iris and wouldn’t let neither in. He opened to Haymitch at the first request but locked the door again immediately after.

Haymitch held him while he threw up and sobbed over the first lives he had ever taken, promising again and again that there was no shame in crying over having killed someone. Crying over that only seemed weak to those who had never had to carry the weight of a stolen life. Killing, he told his brother, should _never_ _ever_ become _easy_.

He had thought Hayden had lost all his innocence after the fifty-fifth Hunger Games but he had been wrong because his brother had clearly lost another piece of his soul on the battlefield.

Hayden was slower to pass judgment on Haymitch after that, as if his new understanding shaded a new light on his brother’s life. Hayden also got on a little better with Finnick, even if they still seemed to be rivaling for Haymitch’s affection – which, as he often pointed out, was _stupid_. He loved them both. Hayden was his brother, Finnick was as good as one of his kids…

He watched every propo Finnick made with Coin and the rest of her advisors before Beetee released them and it was a new sort of torture. Haymitch couldn’t watch Mags’ in its entirety, he stepped out of the room well before the end. It was too difficult to see Finnick barely keeping it together long enough to give an account of his friend’s life. Beetee requested to do Wiress’ obituary himself and it was granted. The result was more powerful than anything Finnick could have done. Cressida had a real gift for capturing moments and emotions. Beetee’s propo was sober and peaceful but it brought tears to everyone’s eyes in Command – except Coin who was only interested in the impact it would have.

Fulvia and Plutarch were still desperate to get _him_ in front of a camera but Haymitch kept refusing until Finnick put the file for Chaff’s propo in his hands.

“I thought you would want to do this one yourself.” Finnick declared.

That was something he couldn’t say no to without feeling like he was disrespecting his friend’s memory.

He didn’t follow the script Fulvia had written and he didn’t stress out how much Chaff would want for people who liked him to fight for Thirteen. He spoke of his friend, of how generous and jolly Eleven’s victor had been, and how much he believed that people should be free no matter what.

When the whole thing was filmed and showed in Command, Plutarch declared it was a shame he didn’t want to do more propaganda spots because, unlike Katniss, he knew how to handle the camera.

Haymitch stood his ground on the propos front. As it was, he lived in fear of an execution being announced for days after Chaff’s obituary aired. It was his greatest terror: having to watch Effie being shot on a screen like he had watched Mabel being killed so long ago.

Retribution came in the form of bombs being dropped on Six though, not in Effie being murdered on national TV.

He wondered what it meant that Plutarch didn’t seem to be able to find her. They had eventually managed to get in contact with the Gamemaker’s sources in the Capitol again, they had confirmed the victors were being held in the depth of the Training Center, they had confirmed Effie had been there at some point... They didn’t know where she was now and they didn’t care. A rescue mission for the Quell’s surviving victors was still out of the question as far as Coin was concerned. Too risky for four people.

Katniss was sent back to Twelve. Haymitch refused to go with her, even if letting her out of his sight was almost more than he could bear. Hayden went in his stead and came back with everything he could think of saving from their houses: Haymitch’s most treasured books, some baubles Iris loved, her knitting basket, a few pictures of all of them in their golden frames, and some other of those mementoes that only held sentimental values to those who owned them.

Haymitch was happy to have some of his things back but, he mused, the only keepsake he truly needed was around his wrist.

He never parted from the golden bangle even if it was heavy and out of place in Thirteen. Coin often gave it the stink eye when it poked from under his sleeve but Haymitch didn’t care. Wearing the bangle was a feeble attempt at keeping Effie close at all times.

Sometimes he sat on his bed in their shared compartment for hours, when he was supposed to get some sleep, and turned the bangle around his wrist absentmindedly, wondering if she was even still alive - because if she was, then, _why_ weren’t they taunting him with her? But he _knew_ deep down. Not knowing was the real torture.

Hayden would always eventually get out of his own bed to sit with him. Sometimes they would talk about her in hushed voices, his brother attempting to cheer him up with an anecdote from one party or another he had attended with their escort or something she had told him… Sometimes even Iris would get up and sit with her sons, trying to offer all the meager comfort she could.

In those moments… It was almost as if Haymitch had his family back, at last. And as painful as they were, he treasured them.

_The Hanging Tree_ song pleased Plutarch to no small extent.

The Gamemaker was a lot less pleased when Peeta warned them that an attack was coming.

And then it was chaos.

Haymitch was in Command when the order to go down to the shelters came. There was no opportunity to go check on his brother or his mother. Even once Command had moved to a temporary reinforced Special Defense room, there was no time to escape.

And all he could think about was that his mother was supposed to avoid stress and that she was old and slow and that those doors would close automatically, regardless of who was left behind to be bombed into oblivion.

When the first bomb fell, Haymitch grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself, closed his eyes and prayed they would all see another dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Will everyone survive the bombings? What about Hayden being a soldier, were you expecting that? Will I ever stop asking pointless questions? Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> And don't miss my new chaptered hayffie story this Sunday! Look out for 'April Showers' !


	97. Chapter 97

Haymitch nervously turned his long empty cup of coffee between his fingers, waiting for the next bomb to drop. Beetee was counting down the seconds and all he could do was close his eyes and _wait_. The night had been long and difficult, hence the coffee they had unusually passed around to Plutarch’s delight.

That bomb was the worst by far.

The room shook for several minutes, alarms kept beeping, dust came down from the ceiling, people were shouting…

Haymitch remained out of the way, sitting with Plutarch in a corner, wondering why they were even there. It wasn’t their scene. Plutarch was out of his depths and Haymitch wasn’t much use – Coin had the situation well in hands anyway, shouting orders and directing her men with an iron determination. In that room, at that moment, it was easy to see how she had become Thirteen’s leader. She was a good general. Good generals didn’t necessarily made good presidents though.

“They’re leaving our air space.” Beetee announced.

“They will be back.” Coin replied, running a hand down her face and finally accepting the coffee a soldier handed her. “Everyone, take a couple of hours of sleep.”

It was obvious she would remain in Command. Beetee hesitated and then offered to stay too, Plutarch did the same.

Haymitch seized the opportunity to slip out of the room and join the main bunker. It was chaos out there, the power was directed to Command in priority and the lights kept flickering, people were huddled together on their beds or on the floor. He heard children crying and soldiers going out of their way to make sure the wounded were taken care of. The injuries weren’t serious: some scrapes and bumps but he wasn’t surprised to glimpse Aster and Prim amongst the medical teams running around.

Katniss was sitting at the foot of his family’s assigned bunk beds, between Gale and Rory, Vick was on Gale’s lap, his eyes tightly shut. Iris was sitting on the lower bed, watching Hazelle and Hayden who were sitting close together with Posy asleep on their laps. His brother’s arm was wrapped around Hazelle’s shoulders. They all looked alright and Haymitch breathed more easily.

“Making it official, are we?” he snorted.

Hayden rolled his eyes but Hazelle didn’t protest, simply resting her head on his shoulder. Gale didn’t look happy with the open display of affection but none of the three boys uttered a complain. Katniss glanced at them and soon stood up to join Finnick on his own bed.

“I am completely blind.” Iris sighed. She looked pale and disheveled but she wasn’t clutching at her chest and Haymitch counted that as a victory. She also looked pleased by the distracted way Hayden was petting Hazelle’s hair – something Haymitch was certain his friend would never have allowed in front of her kids if she hadn’t been in a bunker about to be bombed into oblivion.

“Yeah.” he declared because it was the truth.

“Is it over?” Hazelle asked, her voice trembling with a fear she was trying to contain for her children’s sake.

His amusement disappeared all at once. He shook his head without giving a verbal answer. Gale let his head drop against the metallic pole of the bunk beds.

“It’s like Twelve all over again.” the boy said slowly. “It’s…”

“Not good memories.” Hayden finished when the kid didn’t.

That wasn’t something Haymitch could relate to. He hadn’t had to live through bombs dropping all around them or watching his district being destroyed.

“We’re safe in here.”  he promised. At least he hoped they were. “I don’t see us walking out any time soon though.”

“I have your pack here.” Hayden said, nodding to the upper bed where a lot of emergency bags were piled up. He figured they were all planning on bunking together at least for now. The bag was full of basic necessity items like a toothbrush and a flashlight as well as a change of clothes.

There was a long wait for the lavatory. He almost regretted standing in line for so long once it was his turn. The smell was awful, even though it wasn’t surprising with thousands of people crammed into a relatively small place. He didn’t feel refreshed when he walked out in clean clothes.

Hayden was waiting for him outside, leaning against the wall, his hands buried deep in his pockets. They took their time walking back to the bunk beds.

“The announcement claimed it was Peeta who gave the warning.” his brother said.

Haymitch summed up the failed Capitol propo and Peeta’s warning and then rubbed his eyes. “They will punish him.”

“But they won’t kill him, right?” Hayden frowned. “They still need him.”

“I don’t know, baby brother…” he breathed out. “I don’t know.”

They stayed in that bunker for days. 

Katniss found a new way to be the Mockingjay by amusing Thirteen’s population and the refugees with a game consisting of making Buttercup chase a dot of light. It lifted up the general mood.

Haymitch would have loved to be amused by it too but he could never get rid of the latent dread. Was Peeta still alive or had they decided he was more trouble than they could afford? And what about the others?

He was glad Hazelle had taken his advice and stopped hiding her feelings but, even though she and his brother were never openly affectionate, it was difficult to glimpse the looks and the brushing of hands they shared when no one was looking at them and not think about Effie. Iris was delighted with the whole thing and kept watching them with fondness and love. Haymitch heard her telling Hazelle that she had been thinking of her as a daughter for a long time so it didn’t change much, the Hawthornes were family and always would be, and that she was grateful to see Hayden finally being happy thanks to her. Haymitch had walked away, knowing his family wouldn’t be complete until he had his kids and Effie back.

It _was_ good to see Hayden happy though. His baby brother was proud to be seen with her, so proud he was almost beaming.

“Who’s the peacock now?” Finnick muttered to him one day, watching Hayden stroll around with Hazelle at his side and the kids running around their legs.

The perfect picture of the perfect family.

It was easy to be envious of Hayden’s happiness and difficult not to be bitter about his own loss. Haymitch understood Finnick completely. But…

“He deserves it.” he countered firmly. “He’s been through a lot of _shit_.”

Finnick laughed a broken laugh and sat down on his bed, his fingers fiddling with the frayed length of rope he carried everywhere, staring straight at him. “And _we_ haven’t? Was it _so_ hard for him to be sheltered all his life from what you were doing for him, from what you _prevented_ him from doing? I bet it was _awful_ for him to be safely asleep in his bed while you were being _fucked_ by a pervert. Yes, _really_ awful…”

Haymitch’s jaw clenched and he looked away, unwilling to admit having shared those very thoughts too many times to count.

“I bullied him into a life he didn’t want, that’s not better.” he objected. He could admit it now. His brother had a point, had _always_ had a point. He wasn’t a child anymore, hadn’t been for a long time, but Haymitch was often blind to that. “I dictated his life since he was fifteen. Since _ever_ , really.”

“You _protected_ him.” Finnick scoffed. “You know what I would have given for someone to protect me like you did with him?”

“I tried, boy.” Haymitch growled, feeling guilty for not sheltering Four’s victor better when Mags had asked. “Mags tried.”

“I know, that’s not…” Finnick’s voice trailed off and he shrugged. “It’s just… He never had to go through _that_ so I have troubles sympathizing with him having a life crisis. He always seemed like an ungrateful stuck-up guy to me.”

“He didn’t know, he _doesn’t_ know.” Haymitch argued. “And it was _my_ choice, not his. If he had known…”

He had no doubt if Hayden had known about the _appointments_ he would have tried to stop Haymitch, to take his place, to _protect_ him like Haymitch had been hard bent on protecting him all those years. That was what brothers did. And for all their screaming matches and feuds, they were and always would be brothers.

“It’s still unfair.” Finnick grumbled. “I wouldn’t wish _the appointments_ on anyone but it’s unfair to you. _You_ deserve better.”

“So do you.” Haymitch sighed, grabbing the edge of the upper bed.

“Yes, well… My point is: he didn’t go through a lot of _shit_. _You_ did. _I_ did. His _shit_ wasn’t as bad.” the boy retorted, before a ghost of his old wolfish grin made an appearance. “If Effie could hear us she would smack us around the head for talking this way.”

He looked away, tense for all new reasons. “Yeah.”

They remained silent for a few minutes, each of them brooding over the woman who was lost to them at present.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Finnick said after some time. Haymitch shrugged his permission and the boy cleared his throat, focused on unknotting the rope on his lap. “Do you… Do you enjoy… _you know_ … with Effie? ‘Cause sometimes, even with Annie… I love her, I’ve never loved someone else like I love her, but sometimes… It’s hard to tell the difference with the _appointments_.”

He took the time to ponder the question before answering. It wasn’t something he ever talked about, not even with Effie, absolutely _not_ with Effie.

“It’s different.” he declared at last. “I hate it when she acts like I’m going to break if she does the wrong thing. It’s…”

“Demeaning?” Finnick offered when he had trouble finding the right word.

“Yeah.” he nodded. “I’m not some victim.”

“Oh.” Finnick smiled a poor excuse of a smile. “Good for you ‘cause I am. It’s rape, you know. The fact that we let it happen doesn’t mean it’s not. We didn’t have a choice.”

“I don’t think about it this way.” he snapped, defensive and angry.

_Effie_ thought about it that way, he knew. Chaff too, even if his friends had never openly said so. Mags had clearly been on the same line of thoughts. But not Haymitch. Haymitch couldn’t _afford_ to think about it that way. Call it self-preservation, call it denial… He had spent twenty-five years as the Capitol’s puppet but only twenty as its fuck toy. He had done other things for them, _bad_ things that put his worst _special appointment_ s to shame. He had no right to think of himself as a victim.

“Are you alright?” Iris frowned when he walked back to his family’s bunk beds.

He flopped down on the bed and placed his head on her lap, not caring who saw or what they would think. He had no energy to spare in misplaced pride. “If you knew everything about me you would hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Haymitch.” his mother rebuked him, placing a hand on his forehead. “You are my son. My love for you is a given.”

“You just say that.” he snorted. “But if you knew what I am…”

A sad expression danced on her face. “Is this about what happened before the Quell announcement? About what I said to Effie? I am sorry, darling, I never meant to hurt you, I simply wanted to protect her. I didn’t know she was any different from your usual string of lovers. I didn’t know you had feelings for her.”

“It’s fine.” he mumbled. “It’s not about that anyway.”

Although it _was_ a little but…

“Did something happen?” she asked.

“No.” He straightened up to shake his head. “I’m just being stupid, Mama. I need to go back to Command.”

It was two more days before they were allowed out of the bunkers.

It was two more days before Katniss saw the sea of roses outside, understood what game Snow was really playing with Peeta and collapsed like he knew she eventually would.

He held her until they sedated her, refusing to whisper the empty promises he knew she would have wanted to hear. He couldn’t swear everything would be alright. He couldn’t swear they would get Peeta back. He couldn’t swear _anything_.

He still slammed his fist on the table and argued until he was blue in the face that it was time to send a rescue mission.

That came back to bite him in the ass when Hayden volunteered alongside Gale.

His hand was up too but Boggs ignored him just like he ignored his recriminations at being left out or his demands for his brother to be kept away from the mission too. He followed Hayden all the way to their room and begged for him to reconsider, to stay in Thirteen, but there was no reasoning with him.

“It will be alright.” Hayden swore, grabbing his neck and pressing their foreheads together like they hadn’t done since they were kids. “I have to make my own choices, Haymitch. You have to let me.”

It was _hard_ to respect his wishes but he was determined to do better by his brother. And there was no stopping him anyway, not when everyone was all in favor of him going.

Iris only found out Hayden had volunteered once the hovercraft was gone. So did Hazelle.

Haymitch wasn’t in the mood to deal with hysterical mothers so he left them in Aster’s care and went in search of Katniss, to let her know what was going on. He offered to have her sedated until it was over because that was an option he wished was available for himself. He longed for a medical or alcoholic induced state of oblivion.

He agreed to shooting propos at Katniss’ insistence and because it might actually be a good decoy. In retrospect, he should have known letting Finnick come along when they needed something powerful enough to catch the attention of the Capitol wasn’t a smart choice.

He watched Katniss answering Cressida’s questions about Peeta, nervously turning the golden bangle around his wrist, wondering if he would still have a brother when everything would be over.

The _second_ Katniss directly addressed President Snow, Haymitch could see the clogs turning in Plutarch’s brain and the glances he kept shooting at him and Finnick.

“No way.” Haymitch growled in warning.

“We need something shocking, Haymitch.” Plutarch argued. “Something that can hold Snow’s attention. Something that throws shade on him.”

“Yeah but not _that_.” Haymitch spat. “It’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to live with it!”

“No, I’m not.” the Gamemaker answered calmly. “And I’m sorry about what you’ve been through., I _am_. But it could help.”

“I will do it.” Finnick cut in, moving to take Katniss’ place in front of the camera. The girl moved away, a little puzzled.

“You don’t have to do this.” Haymitch hissed.

“Yes, I do. If it will help her.” the boy argued, balling up the rope in his hand. “Someone has to anyway and we both know it won’t be you.” He nodded to Cressida. “I’m ready.”

Haymitch wanted to take his place, to spare him the humiliation, to _protect_ him but he was frozen in place.

“President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is.” Finnick started in a flat tone. Haymitch stood there while he spilled it all, everything and then some. Every secret he had ever learned during his _special appointments_ , every tiny bit of gossip, every last piece of information…

When he finally finished, the cameras just kept rolling, everyone was too shocked to react. It was Finnick who had to say “ _cut_ ” but Haymitch stepped forward before he could even think twice about it.

“There’s more.” he mumbled. “Might as well get everything out there or there’s no point.”

And it would help Hayden and the victors. It would keep the Capitol’s attention _away_. It _would_ _help_ his brother and there was _nothing_ he wouldn’t do to help his brother, down to giving up the last shred of his dignity, down to risking retribution on Effie. The worse they could do to her was kill her and, at this point in time, he wasn’t certain it wouldn’t be the best thing. At least he would know. At least she wouldn’t be in pain anymore.

This time, it was Finnick who tried to stop him. “You don’t have to. It’s fine. I did it. We don’t need more.”

“More is always better.” Plutarch intervened with a wince. “I mean… If you are willing, Haymitch, of course.”

“Funny, most Capitols never ask that question.” he snorted. Sarcasm was his defense of choice.

The worst part of sitting on that rubble and exposing everything wasn’t the knowledge that everyone would see it and _know_ everything he had fought so long to keep secret. It was Katniss staring at him, gaping until she realized he could see her and then watching him with sorrow and sympathy. He stared at the camera and told them about what had happened to Mabel, about the hit jobs and his brother being reaped because he had drawn the line at selling his body. It was actually almost easy to let it all out once he started, the secrets he had gathered throughout the years, different ones than Finnick’s. Who had shameful kinks and who had so many skeletons in their cupboards they might as well open a graveyard…

He toyed with the golden bangle during the whole propo, talking in a flat monotonous tone when he wasn’t bitterly chuckling at an anecdote or another.

He laid it all bare.

Every little sadistic detail.

Everything they did to him.

Everything they forced him to do.

Monstrosity after monstrosity pouring out of his mouth like bile… Plutarch wanted shock value and he had that in spare.

For a second after he finished his pathetic little tale, it was almost cathartic.

Perhaps the truth really set you free…

Then the enormity of what he had just done crashed down on him again, it was even worse than before. He couldn’t breathe. _What had he done?_ He had fought to keep it secret for _so long_ …. Why… The panic was gut wrenching. How was he supposed to live with everyone knowing what he was? The _shame,_ the…

“Cut.” Plutarch said softly in the resulting silence.

His mouth was dry, his head hurt and he felt empty.

The camera crew hurried inside to edit the footage and the Gamemaker and Finnick hovered in the distance, obviously wary of approaching him, aware of what he had just sacrificed. Katniss didn’t know though and thus there was no hesitation to her steps when she rushed to him and embraced him. He wrapped his arms around her and held on for dear life with the feeling that she was the only one he had left in the world. Once the propo would be out there, once everyone would know, once his family would know…

_How could he live with that?_

Katniss didn’t judge. She _wouldn’t_. What he had done for his brother, she would have done for her sister. They were too much alike.

“How did you cope for _so_ long?” she whispered.

“Effie.” he murmured back and it was almost _painful_ to utter her name. The rescue was for the victors, not for her. He had no hope of seeing her again before the end of the war – if at all.

Katniss didn’t get it at once but when she understood, her grip on his neck tightened.

He noticed she didn’t fill his ears with empty promises either.

At no point did she swear they would get her back.

°°O°°O°°O°°

The gas had been slowly but surely slipping in from a crack near the ceiling – possibly an air vent, she wasn’t sure. It was filling her small cell with a white mist she tried her best not to breathe. She pressed her good arm over her nose and mouth but it was a lost fight and soon she slid to the floor and curled up, wondering if it was another sort of torture, a brand new one.

She regretted Johanna’s absence. She was cold. She wanted to snuggle against someone.

It had been some time since she had shared Jo’s cell though. And even longer since they had let her near Annie or Portia. As for Peeta, she hadn’t seen him in a very long time either.

The gas was making her groggy. She blinked to fight the need to close her eyes but she sensed it was a losing fight.

And then she heard the voices passing in front of the door, going away.

“…my best friend. As good as my sister really.”

“Which makes her my aunt in law or something. _Great_. You could have said _before_ I told you I was cool with you and my mom being together.”

The voices were familiar but her grip on reality was slipping through her fingers.

She heard the shout to _fall back_.

She heard the gunshots and the screams.

She didn’t have time to wonder what was going on.

She was already unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you survive this chapter? Do you think Haymitch will survive this chapter? What's next? :p Let me know your thoughts!


	98. Chapter 98

Beetee outdid himself.

They managed to keep the air for sixty minutes.

Haymitch barely looked at the screen, barely registered what Katniss, Finnick and himself were saying on TV, he sat in an empty room in Special Defense and watched, counting down the minutes, trying to evaluate how far in the mission the rescue team was.

Then the feed went back to usual Capitol programs and Haymitch turned it off, staring at the wall. 

He knew he was needed in Command because while they were attempting to rescue the victors, the war was still raging in Panem, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, too aware that he might have lost everything that day.

He found himself humming an off-key rendition of _The Hanging Tree_ , oddly calm despite everything.

He didn’t startle when the door opened and he didn’t move when a familiar hand fell on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, willing the treacherous feelings _away_ , but leaning his cheek on the wrinkled hand anyway. 

“How could you hide this from me?” his mother whispered. She was choking on her tears, which only made it worse in Haymitch’s book. He didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t want to face his worst nightmare: the shame and pity in Iris’ eyes. “Stupid boy! My stupid brave boy… How could you… I… Everything I thought… It’s been _so long_ , Haymitch, and… All this time you…”

She wrapped her arms around him but he untangled himself from her and moved away. Human touch at that moment wasn’t welcome. 

“I can’t do this right now, Mama.” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the grey floor.

“You can’t…” she repeated, almost in disbelief. “ _They_ _forced_ _you_ to do all those _horrible_ things and you let us think all those years you were just like your father, you were…” She stopped and let out a long raspy breath. When she spoke next, her voice was icy. “I could snap that man’s neck with my bare hands.”

He presumed she was talking about Snow.

“Does Hayden know?” she asked when he remained silent. “My god, did _he_ …”

“No.” he was quick to cut her off. “No, never. I wouldn’t have let them. He doesn’t know either.”

“Haymitch…” she sobbed, taking a step toward him, her arms outstretched.

He stepped back.

He thought she needed the hug more for herself than for him and, any other day, he would have granted her wish but right then… _Right then_ there was only one woman’s embrace he would have welcomed and it wasn’t his mother’s.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” he muttered.

“ _Sorry_?” she repeated. “Why would _you_ be sorry? _I_ am sorry. For not seeing, for not understanding… I should have known. I’m your mother, I should have known.”

He shook his head but still couldn’t bring himself to look at her in the eyes.

“And Effie?” Iris insisted. “Effie knew, didn’t she? That’s what she tried to tell me that night… And I… Oh, god, Haymitch the things I said to you…”

“It’s fine.” he sighed.

“No, it’s not. It’s _not_.” she protested.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated again. “I’m sorry your son’s a whore. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t _ever_ call yourself that.” she hissed and this time she didn’t give him a choice when she hugged him. She was surprisingly strong for a woman who had heart problems. He pressed his face in the crook of her neck, just like when he was little. “I am so proud of you, Haymitch. _So_ _proud_. You were so brave, so selfless…” He tried to argue but she simply held him tighter. “You are _not_ to blame in any of this, do you understand? I can’t believe you went through all of this alone all those years. All the things me and Hayden said… All the things…”

He wanted to say it was alright because she hadn’t known but the words remained stuck in his throat.

“I wasn’t alone.” he whispered. “Well… Not for the last ten years.”

“Effie.” Iris deduced. “Effie, of course.”

Thinking about Effie was too much.

_The whole day_ was too much.

“Mama, I can’t… I have to go.”

He gently detached himself from his mother, relieved, in a way, when she framed his face with her hands and repeated again that she loved him and was proud of him even though she now knew. _She_ _knew_. It was his worst fear, maybe his worst nightmare, but when he dared glance at her face he didn’t see the shame, pity or horror he had been dreading to find. She looked exactly the same as ever except for the tears running down her cheeks. She looked _loving_.

He ran away as fast and as far as he could.

People stared as he passed them by but he pretended he didn’t notice. He was used to being stared at. He was a victor with all it entailed. He wasn’t sorry Hayden wasn’t a real one.

Eventually, after hours of waiting, he was given the word that the hovercraft was approaching and that his presence was required in the hospital. He fetched Katniss and Finnick in the hummingbird room before heading there. The girl had to lead Four’s victor by the hand and Haymitch almost wanted to reach for her free one because he was just as anxious as they were.

The first thing they saw was Johanna being rushed past on a gurney. She looked half dead. She was bald, covered in bruises and festered wounds…

Haymitch stared until she disappeared around a corner only to be brought back to reality by a shriek of joy. “Finnick!”

For a second, time seemed to freeze as Finnick and Annie collided together, in tears and cries of joy, clinging to each other and kissing in turn.

Haymitch didn’t know if it was him or Katniss who started walking again, they spotted Gale in a room being seen to by a doctor. Katniss tried to join him but she was pushed back by a nurse and on they went until they found Boggs, looking shaken but uninjured.

“We got them all out. Except Enobaria.” he told them before narrowing his eyes at Haymitch. “I’m going to give your brother a _fucking_ blame. He’s irresponsible. And Hawthorne isn’t much better. I…”

“He’s alive?” Haymitch asked at the same time Katniss said “Where’s Peeta?”

Boggs’ eyes darted from the girl to her mentor and back and then shook his head, clearly deciding blames and explanations would have to wait.

“Your brother is fine, Haymitch. He should be around here somewhere getting examined. Routine check.” the soldier declared. “The gas is starting to wear off. Mason and your escort started to wake up in the hovercraft. Peeta was still out of it the last time I checked but you should be there when he wakes up. He’s down the hall.”

Katniss was gone in a flash but Haymitch lingered, stunned. “What did you say?”

A rare smile floated on Boggs’ lips for a brief second. “Hayden wouldn’t go without her. She’s in a room down the hall.”

He walked in the direction Boggs had pointed at in a daze.

He almost didn’t recognize her. She was wearing a pristine hospital gown but except for that she was filthy, her hair was so dirty it almost  looked brown, and he could smell her from where he stood. She was sitting on a bed, awake but staring in front of her with a vacant look in her blue eyes, her legs hugged close to her chest.

He was barely conscious of the nurse trying to stop him from going in.

_Nothing_ would have kept him away from her. 

_Nothing_.

He rushed to her side, ignoring the doctor’s warnings or the nurse’s threats about calling security. Let them. He would have fought an army for her at that second. He wrapped his fingers around her calf because it was the closest part of her he could reach.

“ _Effie_.” he breathed out. Her name sounded broken in his mouth, almost as broken as she was.

Her left hand batted at his arm almost frantically, struggling to get him to let her go. “Don’t.” she rasped out. For a second, he thought the worst. She hated him. She never wanted to see him again. She had been hurt so badly she couldn’t bear the simple idea of touch – and he was only too familiar with _that_. She was repulsed by the mere sight of him. “I’m all hairy.”

Even the doctor looked taken aback by that.

It was such an Effie thing to say though, such an Effie thing to do to care about hairs on her legs when she had just been rescued from _prison_ that he burst out laughing. He wasn’t enough of an idiot to convince himself the tears rolling down his cheeks came from the laughter though. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I love you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth without his consent but he didn’t try to hold them back. They were long overdue. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.” And a last one on her lips. “I love you.” he said it again and again, between pecks she was trying to sloppily respond to. It was some time before he stopped kissing her and rested his forehead against hers, unable to believe she was truly _there_.

It had been the worst day of his life and now it was the _best_.

“Can you tell me again when I’m not high?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” he chuckled. “Every day. As many times as you like.” Her smile was just as blinding as he remembered it and he finally turned to her doctor who had politely averted his eyes. “How bad is it?”

She was hurt, that was plain to see. Not as much as Johanna and not as much as he had feared but there were bruises on her arms and some gashes on her legs.

“I want to do x rays for her ribs, one or two might be cracked.” he explained. “I also want to do a pet scan just to be on the safe side. She’s confused, it could come from the gas but it could be a concussion. Aside for that, her shoulder was dislocated at some point…”

“Johanna set it right.” Effie hummed, leaning against him and then she looked up suddenly, almost pleading. “I didn’t talk. I didn’t say _anything_.”

“I know, sweetheart.” he soothed her. “I know.”

She looked pacified by that.

“We will set her arm in a sling for now. She shouldn’t use it.” the doctor continued. “She’s starved and dehydrated but that’s nothing we can’t fix. There might be a small infection on some of the wounds but nothing looks life threatening. All things accounted, I would say she’s lucky, sir.”

“ _Lucky_.” he spat. He wouldn’t have said she was lucky.

“They drugged me.” she muttered, bundling his grey shirt in her fist. “I don’t like it.”

“We gave her a mild sedative to dull the pain.” the doctor intervened. “Once we’re done with the x rays I will give her some morphling. Her shoulder must hurt. I’m surprised she’s resisting so well, to be honest.”

“Pain is easy now.” she mumbled, pressing her face in Haymitch’s stomach. “Are you really here or is it a trick?”

“Yes.” he promised, brushing her dirty hair away from her face. It was a mess of matted blood and tangled in huge knots… He didn’t know if it was salvageable. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Life had a way of making him a liar.

There was a huge crash down the hall followed by screams. Effie let out a whimper and curled up on herself as people ran past in the hallway. Haymitch tried to step out to see what was going but she was holding him back firmly by his shirt.

“Princess, I need…” he started.

“Haymitch, we need you.” Plutarch said, appearing on the doorstep. “There’s something wrong with Peeta. He…” The Gamemaker’s eyes fell on the woman on the bed and he momentarily sidetracked. “Miss Trinket?”

“What’s wrong with Peeta?” Haymitch frowned. “Is he alright?”

“They did something bad to him.” Effie murmured, shaking her head. “Something very bad.”

“Do you know what?” he asked, without missing a beat.

She shook her head harder. He could see her fighting the pain and exhaustion and the residual effect of the sedative but her body was simply too tired for her to be coherent.

“I need to go check on the kids, alright?” he told her, gently tearing his shirt from her fingers. “I’ll be back.”

He met Hayden just outside the room, his brother was watching the commotion at the end of the hallway.

“Stay with her.” he ordered him, running after the soldiers and the doctors going in the direction of Peeta’s room.

Something was wrong with the boy _alright_.

And Boggs knocking him out with a metallic trail probably didn’t help.

He tried to stay with Katniss but the doctors wouldn’t let him, they wouldn’t say for certain what was happening with Peeta either. In the end, Haymitch was left standing in the corridor, torn between checking on Katniss and staying to see what was happening with Peeta, with no clue of what was going on with one or with the other.

“Hey.” Hayden called behind him.

He pulled his brother into a rib crushing hug before he could utter another word. It was part relief at seeing him alive and part gratefulness at what he had done, as foolish as it had been.

“Thank you.” he breathed out.

Hayden clapped his back. “I didn’t do it just for you but you’re welcome. They took her to get x rays, they wouldn’t let me follow. She was pretty much out of it anyway so…”

He nodded at his brother but his communicuff started beeping before he could say any more. Boggs debriefed the rescue mission in Command and Haymitch noted that no mention of Hayden and Gale going rogue to get Effie was mentioned. In the official version, they had found her close to the victors and had brought her along since she had been listed as a political refugee before the war officially started. The public executions were an in-between before the subject moved on to Peeta, and Haymitch could only watch Portia and the boy’s prep team being shot in the head with a shiver, certain that Effie would have been standing with them if Hayden hadn’t rescued her.

In the short time since the boy’s arrival, the doctors had theorized that he had been injected with tracker-jacker venom and that his memories had been compromised, _hijacked._ It didn’t look good and they weren’t optimistic.

Hayden joined the small group on their way to break the news to Katniss.

Haymitch saw the difference immediately on his face. He wasn’t exactly surprised when his brother grabbed his arm, forcing him to fall back from the group. Plutarch glanced at him in question but he gestured for him to go on.

“Hazelle told me…” Hayden started.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” he cut him off, staring at a point over his brother’s shoulder. Of course Hazelle had seen the propo. _Everyone_ had seen the propo. Haymitch felt nauseated at the mere thought. He forced himself to continue speaking though because he owed his brother that much but it was neither the time nor the place. “I know you’re going to say I never tell you everything and I keep secrets and I lie and, yeah, I lied to you for pretty much forever. But _that_ … It wasn’t something I ever wanted you to find out. I don’t want to talk about it with you. I don’t… If you have questions you can ask Finnick or Jo when she wakes up. Or Effie. I _can’t_ talk about that with you. Please.”

He was ready for an argument, a fight, something that shouldn’t happen in the middle of a hospital corridor when they were about to tell Katniss her ‘ _whatever_ _Peeta_ _was’_ to her now hated her and thought her to be a mutt.

“Alright.” Hayden granted and the easy compliance was almost worse in a way. It wasn’t like Hayden to spare his feelings and if he was doing it just because of what he now knew… Well, that was what Haymitch had wanted to avoid all along: being treated differently because a Capitol had once used him as their personal fuck toy. “Is it the last secret?”

Haymitch nodded. “I’m an open book now.”

He moved to follow the others but Hayden grabbed his arm again, holding him back.

“I love you.” Hayden muttered. “You’re my brother and I love you. I know you, you’re going to think stupid things about us loving you less because of… It explains _so_ _many_ _things_ , actually. I only love you more, okay?”

“I thought you would be angry.” he admitted, not quite daring to meet his brother’s eyes.

“I am.” Hayden snorted. “ _Fuck_ , I am _so_ angry but not _with_ _you_. Well, _yeah_ , with you too a little ‘cause you always have to sacrifice yourself, don’t you? You always have to… Yeah, I’m angry with you but because you hid it from me, because you were hurting on your own all this time and… I’m not angry with you because of _what_ you did. But I’m so furious I could kill them all without a second thought.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or some _shit_.”

“Too bad, ‘cause I’m your brother. That’s what brothers do.” Hayden snapped, bumping his shoulder with his own on his way to Katniss’ room, leaving him to follow.

It went better than he had anticipated.

It certainly went better than telling Katniss about Peeta.

The girl was absolutely dejected and hopeless when they walked out of there. Haymitch, Hayden and Beetee weren’t in a better frame of mind but Plutarch kept arguing they were being pessimistic. Haymitch would have preferred it if the Gamemaker had kept the news about Portia and the prep team to himself instead of telling Katniss.

They were talking about grabbing something to eat before the next briefing with Peeta’s doctors when Gale caught up with them, wearing a hospital gown and clutching his shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to be up.” Hayden scolded him.

“Your escort’s gone.” the boy said. “They’re placing the hospital on lockdown.”

Something dropped in Haymitch’s stomach. “What?”

“She was in her room and then she was gone.” Gale shrugged. “That’s what  they told me. They’re locking down the infirmary.” The boy winced and admitted. “I heard the word spy being tossed around. It’s probably better if one of us finds her first.”

“Get Boggs in there.” Haymitch told Beetee. “If she’s hurt…”

“I’m on it.” Plutarch cut in. “This is just a misunderstanding. Find her.”

He, Gale and Hayden spread out, quickly joined by Prim and Aster. The hospital was large and it was scary how someone wearing nothing but a hospital gown, hooked to a drip and with her other arm in a sling could sneak around unnoticed.

It was Aster who found her.

She was in Johanna’s room – a place that was out of bounds for non authorized staff because Jo’s condition was far from stable – sitting on a stool, her upper body half slumped on the victor’s bed. When Katniss’ mother tried to get her to move, she refused and struggled.

Haymitch stopped the nurses who would have grabbed her and carried her away without any care. He didn’t want to upset her further. He ordered everyone out of the room and crouched next to her so they could be at eye level, barely sparing a look for Jo’s sleeping form. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”  

Effie blinked, her eyes glassy and unfocused. “I want to stay with Johanna.”

“Jo needs her rest right now. And so do you.” he told her. They had cleaned her up but her hair was still dirty and tangled. “Come on, I will take you back to your room.”

“But I’m cold.” she argued, pressing her cheek against Johanna’s side. “We keep each other’s warm.”

His heart broke a little more at that moment. She looked so lost, so vulnerable…

“She doesn’t need you to keep her warm, sweetheart. She has plenty of blankets. Look.” he insisted, helping her to sit up so she could see Jo’s body was indeed wrapped in cotton sheets and the itchy covers they used in that place. “See? She’s warm. There are blankets in your room too. You won’t be cold there.”

“But I don’t want to be alone.” Effie insisted, her lips wobbling with frustration.

“You won’t be alone. I will stay. Or Hayden.” he promised.

“And Johanna?” she frowned. “She can’t be alone either. I need to take care of her. That’s my job. I’m an escort. I take care of my victors.”

“There are a lot of people taking care of Jo.” he sighed. “You’re safe now, both of you, you don’t need to protect her.”

“And me?” she asked in a tiny voice. “Who will protect me?”

It was frustrating, the relentless questioning, but she was high on morphling and frightened and he couldn’t deny her anything when she was looking at him with those bright blue eyes.

“Me.” he pledged. “I will protect you.”

She pursed her lips and seemed to debate that for a few seconds and then she nodded. “Alright.”

“Alright.” he repeated, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It took a while to have her settled in her own bed again. She clung to his hand all the way, even when the doctor examined her. She made a fuss when they asked him to step out so he stayed where he was, arguing that he had seen her naked enough times anyway. If he had hoped to fluster the medical team, that only warranted him glares from the nurse and a disapproving look from the doctor.

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep but she was still begging not to be left alone when she finally succumbed to a deep slumber.

She remained hooked to morphling for a few days.

Haymitch’s time was stretched thin. He wanted to stay by her side, to keep his promise of not leaving her alone, but he also needed to take care of Peeta and Katniss and to show up in Command. They all started taking turns without no one really organizing it. Hayden would sit with her when he couldn’t, sometimes their mother would relieve one of her sons, sometimes Finnick and Annie sat with her for a few hours…

It became a little easier to jungle after Katniss had requested to go to Two but not by much.

Even then, it always felt like ripping off a limb when he was forced to leave her, all the more so when they were finally taking her off the meds and she was becoming more lucid.

°O°O°O°

The first thing Effie was aware of, as always when she woke up, was the throbbing pain in her shoulder. It was manageable though, almost dull compared to what it used to be.

“Johanna?” she called before she even tried to open her eyes.

There was no point opening her eyes if she was alone. No point at all.

“It’s me.” a voice answered. Not Johanna’s but it was familiar, _treasured_.

_Hayden_ , her brain whispered. It all came back. Her memories were like a ball of wool lately, tug on the thread and the whole thing would unravel in a gigantic mess. She was in Thirteen, she had been told repeatedly, every time she woke up. She was safe. She was not alone. Haymitch was there.

She forced herself to open her eyes and regretted it when the harsh light of the neon lamps assaulted her retinas.

“Want to try and sit up?” Hayden suggested and she nodded. He pressed a button next to the bed and it moved up until she was in a sitting position. There was a moment of uncertainty because she was still feeling weak and the last time they had tried that she had slipped down the bed. He brought a straw to her lips and she gratefully sip the lukewarm water. The junior mentor watched her and then snorted. “I think you finally came down from your high.”

“Don’t be preposterous, I was not high. I don’t do drugs.” she retorted, reaching to take the cup of water away from him. The instinctive use of her right arm made her whine despite the sling strapping it to her body.

“Easy.” he chided her. “If you get hurt on my watch, Haymitch will have my balls.”

“Language.” she rebuked him instinctively. “Where is he?”

The hope was too strong to be suppressed. She wanted Haymitch, she _needed_ Haymitch. She could barely remember seeing him despite the fact she knew he had hardly left her side. She didn’t know how long she had been in that hospital room, just that it had been some time now. Perhaps a few days.

“In Command.” Hayden told her. “Two is giving them trouble.” She didn’t know anything about what was happening out there so she could only acknowledge that with a disappointed hum. He reached for her hand and squeezed. “He will come back when he can. He was miserable without you, you know?”

“I’m miserable without him too.” she confessed.

“I know.” he smiled. “It’s actually scary how much you two are meant to be.” He remained silent for a while after that and Effie started to drift off again, not minding the distracted way he was playing with her fingers. When he spoke, it was soft but slightly resentful. “I can’t believe you hide that from me all this time.”

“Us?” she asked, confused. “You knew about us…”

“No. The _appointments_.” he countered.

Her eyes flew open as an icy chill ran down her spine, she must have been hooked to some machine because one of them started beeping like crazy in par with the beating of her heart. “What about the _appointments_?”

“Calm down.” he demanded. “You’re supposed to rest not get upset.”

“What about the _appointments_ , Hayden?” she repeated because she might still be a little out of it but she knew it was _bad_ if her friend was talking about that, as if he knew…

“Haymitch and Finnick did a propo.” he explained. “It’s not a secret anymore.”

“Oh.” she breathed out, aching to see Haymitch, to check if he was alright…

“I didn’t see it, it was during the rescue mission. Hazelle and Mama did but they won’t tell me the details and he doesn’t want to talk about it.” he continued.

“Don’t force him.” she begged. “Please, you have _no_ idea… All this time… He just wanted to protect you, Hayden, he just wanted… He _couldn’t_ tell you. He tried. He tried several times but… He was _so_ scared you would think less of him. I told him you wouldn’t. I _told_ him you… He loves you so much…”

“I know, it’s okay…” he assured her in a soothing voice. “I figured. It’s okay. We’ll do this on his terms. He said I could ask you or Finnick…”

“They hurt him.” she told him, her voice cracking a little. “They hurt him _badly_. There is not much more to say and nothing else he would want you to know. It doesn’t matter how he was hurt or what they did to him, the details won’t help you. They didn’t help me. I could have killed them, you know.”

“Yes, I imagine.” he snorted. “I could kill them right now. For him, for you and for Peeta.”

“Peeta…” she repeated. “Why? What happened? Katniss? Where is _Katniss_?”

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t asked before.

By the time Hayden had finished summing the last months up, she was in tears.

That was how Haymitch found them, hugging each other while she sobbed her heart out.

No need to say, he wasn’t exactly pleased with his brother but he joined them on the bed and, once she was sandwiched between them, safe in their protective embrace, she started to believe that, maybe, they would be alright.


	99. Chapter 99

The effort to move the comb to the top of her head made her whimper but she soldiered through.

_Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother’s whispered in her mind. It brought tears to her eyes she pretended were due to the pain in her chest. Her ribs protested the exercise – they weren’t cracked, just bruised, and she was lucky, the doctor had said _that_ plenty of times. It was frustrating when the comb barely slid a few inches before getting stuck. Her hair was a mess. The nurses would have shaved her head and be done with the whole thing if Haymitch hadn’t forbidden them to touch a single strand. She placed the comb at the top of her head again and slid it down only for it to get stuck.

_Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_ , she repeated to herself again and again with every new attempt.

She was sitting on her bed, cross-legged, wearing the awful uniform they had given her when she had requested clothes, and she absolutely regretted the lack of windows. She tried not to think about the fact they were underground, it only made her think of damp cells and cold nights.

The comb remained stuck in the heap of hair again and she struggled to get it out. Her left hand wasn’t dominant and she was still weak despite her protests that she was ready to be released. She _wanted_ out. They were all treating her like a broken doll in that place, even Haymitch, and she was sick of it.

The doctors were astonished by her quick recovery, Haymitch wasn’t exactly fooled but there was never any time to discuss anything – not with Two being such a thorn in the rebellion’s proverbial side. Haymitch came and went when he could but it was never for very long. It had taken days to convince him she would be alright by herself now, that he didn’t need to force his brother or Finnick and Annie to sit by her side.

She managed to get the comb out but at the price of a burst of pain in her chest that made her gasp.

“Just shave the whole thing.” Johanna grumbled.

Haymitch’s compromise to her not needing a constant presence at her side had been for her to share a room with Johanna, as soon as the younger victor had been allowed out of the critical ward.

“They don’t have wigs in this District.” she retorted. “And I _refuse_ to look like you. I can see the light reflecting on your skin. It’s almost blinding.”

It would seem harsh to anyone else’s ears but she and Johanna were more intimate than ever now. Joking about her pain with her was the only way Jo would open up about it. Pity would only trigger anger and sympathy wouldn’t be tolerated. Making fun of her was something different, something they could both relate to. Maybe by keeping up the pretence that they couldn’t talk without bickering, they were also pretending whatever they had gone through in those cells hadn’t forged a bond neither of them was entirely comfortable with. They were closer than they would have wished now but they had never been friends and they were reluctant to call each other thus.

“I don’t know.” Seven’s victor snorted without even opening her eyes. “I think I rock the bald head look. Maybe I will keep it.”

“You would.” Effie scoffed, taking a deep breath before starting up again with the distinct impression she was making it even worse than it was. The whole thing was made more difficult by the fact she couldn’t hold the mirror in front of her since her right arm was still tightly wrapped in the sling. She didn’t see what she was doing and the nurses had no time to stop and take care of her hair. There were admittedly more important things going on.

Like Peeta.

She had tried to request permission to visit but it had been denied. And aside for the fact he was working with a childhood friend and making small progresses, she hardly knew anything else. Katniss was still in Two. They were getting ready for the big finish – or so Hayden had said earlier – and that was why Haymitch was stuck in Command and couldn’t swing by that day.

She was happy that, at least, the relationship between the two brothers seemed easier if not repaired. Something had changed while she had been away. Perhaps it was the truth about Haymitch’s life finally being exposed, perhaps it was Hayden’s newfound maturity about certain subjects… Training as a soldier had helped him see some things in a new light, he had confessed. Whatever it was, there was a new understanding between Hayden and Haymitch, a peaceful truce, one that was _welcomed_.

There was a soft knock on the door and she lifted her head in time to see Iris walk in, her uniform slacking on her petite figure. Mrs Abernathy didn’t look healthy.

“Hello, dear.” Iris smiled, almost shyly. Effie was aware the woman had been in and out of her room several times since her arrival in Thirteen, she remembered her soothing voice lulling her back to sleep during some restless bouts of slumber in the first few days. However, it was the very first time she visited since Effie was coherent and off the drugs. “I hope you don’t mind, I thought I could keep you company for a while.”

Truth be told, Effie _didn’t_ want company – Johanna didn’t count anymore, they had spent too much time sharing a tiny cell – but she forced a welcoming smile on her face nonetheless and gestured to the vacant chair next to the bed. _Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_. She needed to pretend she was alright. She needed to convince them all that she was the same old Effie. That was the only way she would convince _herself_ that she wasn’t broken in a thousand pieces.

“How are you?” she asked.

Iris glanced at the other bed and the woman lying in it and lowered her voice not to disturb Johanna’s rest. “I should be the one asking this.”

“Oh, I am perfectly fine.” she grinned and it was almost easy to slip on her escort mask. All she needed was practice. “I hope they will finally let me out soon. I am eager to help Katniss in any way I can. I understand Miss Cardew did a great job but she is not her escort and I am sure our little Mockingjay will be more comfortable with me.”

Her cheerfulness was, perhaps, over the top and the act a little too forced. She had never been that detached or fake with Iris and at the way the woman pursed her lips and averted her eyes, Effie knew she had picked up on it.

“I had no real opportunity to apologize.” Mrs Abernthy declared. “The last time you and I talked…”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.” Effie waved that away with her comb. It reminded her of her goal of the day: trying to tame the bird nest on her head. She lifted the comb again, more careful of her ribs.

“Yet, I owe you an apology.” Iris insisted. “And a thousand thank you.”

This time, her voice was sincere when she spoke, no fake cheerfulness, no attempt at making light of the topic. “You owe me _nothing_ , Iris.”

“What you did for my son…” the woman tried to explain.

“I love Haymitch.” Effie cut her off, trying not to let her anxiety show. The last time she had tried to make the older woman understand, it hadn’t exactly gone well and she wasn’t keen on a repeat. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him. And even if I didn’t love him… What they did to him was _wrong_.”

She struggled with the comb and Iris watched for a moment before holding out her hand. “May I?”

Wordlessly, Effie handed it over, trying to relax when Iris perched behind her on the bed. She didn’t like having someone behind her back, she realized. At least, the woman was certainly more efficient than she was. Iris tried to be gentle about it but the mess was such that it was difficult not to brutally tug on the strands.

“I had hoped Hayden would be a girl, you know.” Iris hummed after a few minutes of patient combing. “It is silly of me but I have such fond memories of my mother… I loved it when she brushed my hair.” Fingers ran in the short amount of untangled hair. The huge knot was at nape level. “I _need_ to thank you, Effie, because Haymitch is my baby boy, no matter how grown up he is, and you were his friend when me and his brother let him down.”

“You didn’t know.” she objected. “How could you?”

“A mother should always know.” Iris sighed. “You will see someday.”

“Haymitch doesn’t want children.” she whispered. It sounded a little like an accusation because how could the woman _not_ know _that_?

“There is still time.” the woman argued.

“Even though.” Effie retorted. “My body has been through so much… I do _not_ see any children in our future, Iris. It’s alright though. We have Peeta and Katniss.”

Her voice softened at the thought of her victors. She wanted to see them _so badly_ …

Iris hummed but didn’t retract her belief that she would eventually be a grandmother.

“He won’t talk to me about it.” Haymitch’s mother eventually confessed.

Effie closed her eyes, not needing her to clarify what the _it_ was. She had had the same conversation with Hayden. “Don’t force him. He didn’t want you or his brother to find out.”

“Yes, I understand that. I just…” Iris hesitated. “Does he talk to you? He needs someone. If…”

“He has me.” she growled, almost possessively.

The woman didn’t challenge her claim. She accepted it easily. “Then, I am glad. That is all I wanted to know. I _am_ happy it’s you, Effie. I’m happy he found you.” The comb worked on a particularly tangled knot and she bit her bottom lip against the irritating pain in her scalp. “Everything will be alright now. Our family is all back together.”

“My family is dead.” she said flatly.

It needed to be said, she supposed.

She hadn’t told Haymitch yet but he probably already knew anyway. Executions of traitors were public knowledge and her family had all been branded traitors because of her.

Johanna jolted on the other bed but the victor remained still after this involuntary give away, her eyes still closed, so Effie went on, even though the comb had stopped trying to pick at the knot.

“I wouldn’t say what they wanted to hear so they killed them. I watched.” she offered, blinking fast against the tears that were making her eyes burn.

_Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_. _Ladies do not bawl their eyes out at the smallest difficulty_ , _they straighten up and face the world with a smile_.

Bony hands fell on her shoulders but Effie tense before Iris could do anything like hugging her. “Please, don’t. I _hate_ to sound rude but I think I need to rest a little now.”

“Of course.” Iris breathed out, sounding guilty and sad for no good reason. She placed the comb on the table between the two beds and made an effort to respect Effie’s wishes by keeping a straight face. “I did what I could but I’m afraid the rest of your hair isn’t really salvageable. Hazelle is very good at cutting hair. I will ask her to stop by when she has time.” Seeing Hazelle was the last thing Effie wished but she nodded anyway, hoping it would make Iris leave more quickly. “I know it’s not the same, dear, but you have a family with us. Never doubt that.”

The hand she brushed against her cheek was almost her undoing. Effie had years of practice at controlling herself though, a _lifetime_ really. She lied back down as soon as Iris was gone and chewed on her bottom lip until she tasted blood.

“You should really stop faking sleep every time someone comes in. A little socialization would do you good.” she said, once she was certain her voice would remain steady.

Johanna turned on her side, careful not to disturb the tubes hooking her to the morphling pump. “When did that happen?”

She gave a half shrug with her good shoulder. “Early enough.”

“You never said.” Jo accused.

“You never asked.” she replied.

The victor studied her with clouded eyes that weren’t entirely due to the drugs running through her veins. “I’m cold. Move your ass over here.”

Effie did as she requested. Fitting together on the narrow bed was a struggle but they managed. The excuse was ridiculous but it was easier to pretend it was about survival rather than comfort – even in Thirteen where survival wasn’t exactly an issue anymore. Back to back with Johanna, she allowed herself to relax. It was reminiscent of days spent in fear someone would come in and hurt one of them but the clean smell of antiseptics was enough to counterbalance the memories. The smell wasn’t pleasing but it grounded her. And with Jo at her back, she felt safe. She eventually fell asleep for a nap that didn’t exactly make her feel any better.

She was woken up by nurses who took the victor away for more exams and, left alone with nothing better to do, she tried to pick at her hair again. Hazelle found her like that, her left arm twisted to try and reach behind her neck, snarling against the pain but determined to get the job done. She wasn’t really at her best and Hazelle stared at her, eyebrows raised. The woman soon got past her amusement though, she waltzed into the room like she owned the place, all business.

“Look, I don’t like you and you don’t like me but our men are brothers which means we better figure out a way to get along.” Hazelle stated. “Now let me see your hair. Iris says it’s a disaster.”

Hazelle and Effie were both two strong stubborn women albeit in different ways. They could either be best friends or mortal enemies. Hazelle resented the Capitol and disliked her on principle, Effie was still wary of her close relationship with Haymitch and she tended to grow defensive. By the time she was done cutting her hair, though, they had found a common ground in deciding Haymitch and Hayden were ridiculous when they tried to compete with each other – although slightly endearing in their stupidity.

Hazelle never hinted at her time in prison, she didn’t coddle her, she didn’t ask if she was alright or needed anything and that was something Effie desperately needed: being treated like a normal human being and not like a special snowflake about to melt.

Effie offered some stories about Hayden making a fool of himself at a party or another and Hazelle shared some of Haymitch’s teenage exploits. The District woman told her how, at the prime age of ten, he managed to climb a tree and remain stuck until Mabel took pity and rescued him. Effie laughed, she couldn’t help it, the picture was too vivid in her mind. The laughter surprised even herself because it was genuine. She was also genuine when she told Hazelle she wouldn’t mind her visiting again.

She barely had time to run her fingers in her newly untangled hair after Hazelle’s departure, when the nurses pushed Johanna back into the room on a wheelchair. The victor shot her one displeased look, hopped gracelessly from the wheelchair with a glare for the nurses and hauled herself back on her bed.

“You should have shaved it.” Jo spat. “Can’t stand to look at your ugly face.”

Effie resisted the childish urge to make a face at her, instinctively smoothing her hair. The curls reached her chin. She wanted to wash it and wondered if she would be allowed a shower. The nurses were always wary of allowing her anywhere unsupervised and she couldn’t tell if it was because of her origins or because they were scared she would overdo it and pass out somewhere. Still, she wasn’t ready for a nurse to help her shower. Like Johanna, she preferred to make do with a basin and a wash cloth – at least they were allowed to do _that_ on their own – even though Jo’s reluctance to go anywhere near a shower had little to do with misplaced pride, she supposed.

“You’re always a ray of sunshine, Johanna.” she sighed.

“They’re cutting off my _fucking_ morphling.” the victor retorted, as the nurse made a quick job of rolling away the morphling pump before Jo could grab it and make a scene.

“It’s good news.” Effie argued. “It means you are recovered.”

“I need it.” Johanna hissed. For a second, terror flashed in her eyes and she turned her back on Effie, lying on her side.

“Are you cold?” she asked tactfully.

“No.” Jo retorted. “Don’t even _fucking_ think about coming here or I will snap your neck.”

It wasn’t an empty threat and Effie kept her distances, pretending she couldn’t hear the sniffs and raspy breathing because Johanna wouldn’t have appreciated it.

Her next goal was being allowed to shower alone and she took up the fight to the head nurse, never relenting in her rational arguments, to Hayden’s utter amusement. The junior victor had entered the room halfway through the debate and had been hiding his smile ever since.

“Why don’t you wait for Haymitch?” he asked, once the nurse had left the room. Effie almost tossed her pillow after her in her frustration. “They won’t let you shower alone, fine. Ask someone you’re comfortable with.”

“Like Haymitch cares.” Jo sneered from her bed. “He hasn’t been here in… What, Trinket? Two days? I think he doesn’t like her so much anymore.”

“Haymitch is busy.” she argued, refusing to let the victor’s words sting.

“He’s holed up in Command.” Hayden argued, defensive. “I don’t think he even slept at all since the day before yesterday. They’re blowing up the Nut.”

“Good for them.” Jo hissed.

They both ignored her.

The lack of morphling was making her even more disagreeable than usual. She claimed to be in pain but the nurses and doctors said it was in her head – that answer wasn’t settling well with her.

“I can do it for you if you don’t want to wait.” Hayden offered. “I mean, it’s not so weird, is it? Or I can ask Mama or Hazelle…”

“No, it’s alright.” she refused swiftly. “I will wait for Haymitch.”

Haymitch didn’t visit the next day nor did she expect him to. Finnick and Annie came by, their hands glued together, inseparable it seemed. It made Effie strangely envious.

It was late at night when she woke up to stubble scraping against the skin of her forehead. Her eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat, her hands immediately looking for a weapon that wasn’t there, had _never_ been there…

“It’s just me, sweetheart.” came the rough whisper.

She blinked in the semi-darkness. The lights in their room were switched off – not their choice, both she and Johanna would have liked it better if they had been allowed to keep them on – but the door was open and light spilled from the hallway. Haymitch’s frame was looming over her.

He ran his fingers through her hair. She wanted to tell him not to touch because they were greasy and still filthy but she kept her tongue, knowing nothing would deter him when her hair was concerned.

“They cut it.” he pouted.

“Hazelle did.” she answered. “You cannot save everything, Haymitch.” He looked hurt and she brushed her good hand against his face. “It wasn’t a reproach. I do not blame you for any of it. It was my choice to go back.”

“Stupid choice.” he grumbled, holding her hand in place against his cheek and placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist. They hadn’t talked about that yet, her decision to pass on the hovercraft in a desperate and futile attempt at saving her family. They hadn’t talked about anything serious, really. There had been no time and no opportune moment. But now, in the dead of night, she mused, the moment _seemed_ opportune. They had had their most important talks in the dead of night. He glanced at Johanna with uncertainty. “Is she sleeping or fake-sleeping?”

“Sleeping.” Effie answered without needing to check. “That beard has to go. Stubble is one thing I can live with but this monstrosity on your face… It looks like a dead porcupine, really.”

He snorted but his eyes remained fixed on Johanna. “How do you know? She’s awfully good at fake-sleeping.”

“I do.” she whispered. She was used to Johanna’s breathing at night, used to determine if the victor was in pain or unconscious by her breathing. She was also used to crawling in her hospital bed or to Jo crawling into hers on the very bad nights but that was something she would keep between Seven’s victor and herself. “You look awful.”

She brushed her thumb on the dark bag under his eye. She could glimpse them even in the half-light.

“Haven’t napped in forever.” he yawned. “Haven’t really slept more than a couple of hours at a time since the Quell either.”

She scooted over to the very edge of the bed, thinking it would be a tight fit – tighter than when she shared it with Johanna – but it could work. He only hesitated for a second before climbing next to her. It was easy to settle in their favorite position to sleep. He was spooning her – on her good side – an arm loosely wrapped around her waist, mindful of her ribs, the other under her head, bent at the elbow so he could play with her hair, one of his leg trapped between hers… She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, almost overwhelmed.

“I dreamed about this.” she confessed. “Every night in that place… I pretended… I missed you.”

“I didn’t miss you.” he snorted. “I _craved_ you. It was… I’m never going through that again, you hear me? Next time, when I tell you to get your ass to a hovercraft, you get your ass to a hovercraft or _I swear_ I will kill you myself. You’re almost as bad as Katniss.”

His voice broke but, somehow, she didn’t think it was about her own stunt. The pain was too fresh, too raw.

“What happened?” she frowned. If he was here, she supposed it meant the fight for Two was over.

“Stupid girl got shot.” he mumbled, pressing his face against her neck. “She’s fine. Well, she’s _not_ but she will live. She’s on her way back. Could have gotten killed. Why can’t she _listen_ when I tell her something? Why can’t _you_? You’re both so bent on making me _bury_ you?”

“I’m here. I’m fine.” she countered instinctively.

“No, you’re not.” he scoffed.

She didn’t deny it because there was no point lying. He knew her too well. “Are you?”

“Peachy.” he chuckled. “Just peachy.”

She snorted too, she couldn’t help it.

“Remember the last night on the train after the kids won?” he asked, after a few seconds.

She smiled at the memory. They had spent half the night playing riddles, making love, and enjoying each other’s company. “It was a good night.”

“I told you I could live without you but I didn’t want to.” he insisted. “I was wrong. I can’t _live_ without you. I can barely _survive_ without you.”

She awkwardly grabbed the arm passed around her waist with her free hand. “You cannot see me but you cannot live without me. Who am I?”

His answer had been so practical at the time. _Air_. She had meant _love_ all along. She had meant to make him understand then. And she wanted to hear the word from his lips now. She had vague memories of him finally telling her when she had first arrived in Thirteen but it was fuzzy and she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t dreamt it.

“You.” he offered, pressing a kiss against her nape.

She turned her head despite the slight throb of pain in her shoulder. He understood what she wanted and captured her mouth under his. The angle was awkward but it was their first real kiss in forever and she wanted to treasure it. It was slow and sweet, so different from their last frantic pecks in the penthouse…

“I love you.” she mouthed against his lips.

“I love you.” he uttered awkwardly but more easily than she had ever thought he would say those words.

They kissed for a long time, longer than they ought probably, given where they were and how exhausted they both felt. There was solace to be found in each other’s embrace though and Effie desperately needed it to ground herself, to accept this was real.

They fell asleep at some point, safe in each other’s arms.

She woke up to Johanna’s taunting as Haymitch slipped away from her bed.

“Haymitch?” she asked, still half-asleep.

“Katniss’ hovercraft just arrived.” he explained in a low voice, brushing her hair away from her face. “I need to go check on her.”

“Can you come back later?” she mumbled. “I need you to shower with me.” 

Johanna made gagging noises but she ignored it, focusing instead on Haymitch amused and tender gaze.

“Kinky.” he smirked.

There was nothing kinky about the shower.

She realized soon enough that the nurses had a point about not wanting her to do this on her own. Haymitch had to do almost everything, from helping her take the sling off to peeling the clothes from her skin. He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes averted from her but she could see him cataloguing the still healing scars, the fading bruises and the general abuse her body had suffered. 

She was ugly but, if anyone could see her looking ugly and not judge her, it was him. She wasn’t afraid of showing herself to him in that state because she trusted him with everything she had and then some. She was self conscious though and when he brushed his hand on the deep yellow and purple bruises marring her ribcage, she sucked in a breath.

“Did I hurt you?” he frowned.

She shook her head but he was more careful when his hand explored her shoulder. The bruising was even uglier there but Johanna had done a good job with her shoulder, the doctor had said, which was lucky otherwise they would have had to dislocate it again to set it back properly.

“I want to kill someone.” Haymitch growled.

There was such a contrast between the hatred in his voice and the gentleness of his touch, it almost made her cry.

“I am fine.” she promised mechanically.

“Not to me, sweetheart.” he begged. “You can lie to the others if you want to but not to _me_.”

She gave him a brief nod and waited until he had taken his clothes off to step inside the shower. It wasn’t what she had had in mind when she had asked him to supervise her shower but he had argued it would be easier and that he needed a shower too anyway – which she tended to agree with because she might have grown used to bad smells in the cells but it didn’t mean she couldn’t tell _he_ was smelly.

She smiled when she spotted the golden bangle around his wrist. It was battered and scratched but it meant a lot to her that he was still wearing it.

The water was lukewarm but she welcomed it with relief anyway, she tilted her head back and let it wash down her face, eyes closed. It had been _months_ since her last shower.

Haymitch wordlessly picked up the soap and covered her with it, careful of the bruised patches of skin. His hands didn’t linger in his favorite places and there was no telltale signs that he wanted to take advantage of their naked bodies pressed together.

“Do you still want me?” she asked before she could stop herself, not sure she was ready to hear the honest answer to that question.

“I _always_ want you.” he scoffed, running his fingers through her hair, working the shampoo all the way to her scalp.

“Are you sure?” She made a  point of looking down.

He sighed and let one of his hands coil around her neck, gently rubbing the tension away. “It’s not you. I’m so tired, sweetheart… It would take some work, yeah. And you’re not in any state to do that anyway.”

She searched his grey eyes for a lie. She didn’t find one, just exhaustion. She also didn’t think all of it was due to the war, the children, or even her.

“There are no more secrets.” she observed carefully.

He shrugged. “There was just no point hiding it anymore. Finnick’s confession was out there… It wouldn’t have taken Hayden long to add two and two. I thought it could help the rescue team, give them time.” He shook his head. “And I don’t even care because Hayden came back safe and he brought you back and that’s all I can focus on right now.”

She wrapped her good arm around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder before pressing a long kiss against his neck. “I am _proud_ of you.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” he mocked.

“Perhaps you will start to believe you should be proud of yourself then.” she chided him.

“I’ll be proud of myself the day this whole thing is over and the kids are finally safe.” he declared. He rinsed the shampoo from her hair and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I thought I was doing the right thing with this rebellion. For us, for the kids…”

“You were.” she said firmly.

“Yeah?” he replied bitterly. “I think we would have had better luck playing the Games the usual way. Making deals with Snow, blackmailing… Maybe we couldn’t have protected them from the _appointments_ but Katniss wouldn’t be broken and Peeta wouldn’t be a mutt.”

“Do _not_ say that.” she rebuked him. “You did the best you could. You saved them both time and time again. You cannot control _everything,_ Haymitch, you have to accept that. The rebellion is the right choice. The Games… The Games are wrong. The Capitol is _wrong_. How many children did we lose? How many friends?” She shook her head, pressing her face further against his shoulder. “My family…”

“I know.” he offered.

“Do you know they made me watch too?” she laughed and it was broken. “They wanted me to talk but I knew they would kill them either way so I _didn’t_. They killed my mother first because she kept saying it was an outrage and she just couldn’t… stop talking. She _never_ could. She just… Mid-sentence. They shot her _mid-sentence_.”

She swallowed back the tears and forced the words out, knowing it was the only time she would manage to spit them out: in the safety of his embrace, under a lukewarm stream of water, her face buried in his shoulder, her chipped nails clawing at his back as her hand clenched in uncontrollable spasms.   

“Then it was Lyssa.” she continued. “She was clueless. She didn’t understand. My parents… They knew. But Lyssa… She was terrified. _Terrified_. The look on her face…”

He cradled the back of her head in his hand, his fingers running through the short wet strands like she did for him when he was upset. It didn’t bring her much comfort but it was enough to know he was there for her.

“My father… My father didn’t say anything. He just faced it.” She closed her eyes tighter, willing the memories to go _away_. “Rufus was not there, though. That’s a good thing. They didn’t find him.”

For a few minutes, all she could hear was her own ragged breathing and the clatter of the water hitting the white tiles of the shower.

“They found him.” he said eventually. “I’m _sorry_ , sweetheart. They found him.”

“No.” she denied, shaking her head. “No, he wasn’t with them.”

“Plutarch said he evaded them for some time.” Haymitch winced. “I…”

“Safia.” she cut him off, stepping out of his arms. “Where is Safia? Did they kill her too?”

She wished she didn’t think it was possible for anyone to murder a toddler but she knew better. She had a decade of experience in the murdering of children.

“I don’t know.” he said quickly. “If he was smart, he hid her somewhere.”

Her niece was five. She was too young to survive on her own. Too young to…

“I need to find her.” she moved as if to step out of the shower but his arms were around her again, almost caging her in. “Let me go, I need to…”

“There’s nothing you can do.” he stated simply. “If she’s alive, she’s somewhere in the Capitol. You can’t go to the Capitol.”

“Watch me.” she growled, struggling against his grip. His arms were an iron lock around her waist though and her back was pressed against his chest. “Haymitch…”

“There’s _nothing_ you can do right now.” he cut her off. “ _Nothing_. Accept it or it will drive you mad.”

“You are a hypocrite.” she accused. “If you were in my shoes and it was Hayden’s child…”

“I _was_ in your shoes.” he spat. “You were out there, out of reach. _Peeta_ was out there. All you can do is _wait_. If she’s still alive when we take the Capitol, we’ll find her. I promise.”

Haymitch never promised anything lightly and it was her undoing.

The sob made her bend in two, pain flared in her ribcage but she ignored it.

She didn’t cry just because of Safia but it was an excuse like any other. Her legs gave in and she would have fallen flat on her face if Haymitch hadn’t helped her sit slowly.

He sat on that cold tile floor with her a long time, holding her while she cried.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, clean for the first time in months, she felt stronger. She was determined to help the rebels in any way she could if only to make this war go faster.

_Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_.         


	100. Chapter 100

“Home, sweet home.” Haymitch mocked, dropping her welcoming kit on his bed.

Effie lingered on the threshold hesitantly until Iris rose from the table where she was knitting and hugged her tight, ushering her in before sliding the door shut behind her. Effie was overwhelmed, that was plain to see, but she soon fixed a smile on her face and politely nodded at everything his mother was explaining about the scans and the timetables and the lack of privacy afforded by the window giving on the corridor.

Upon her hospital release, they had tried to assign her to a refugee compartment but Haymitch wasn’t keen on her sharing a room with a stranger, never mind someone from a District who would not be able to see past the escort label. There was a fourth bed in his family compartment so he had quickly put his foot down. Not that she would be using the fourth bed, he figured.

“Come on.” he said before his mother could drown her with words. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” she repeated and, for a second, the smile she flashed him was just as blinding as he remembered.

He had never been overly demonstrative, never in public certainly, and he was very aware of his mother standing near but he couldn’t help himself when he outstretched his hand, waiting for her to take it.

If he had been overprotective before, it was nothing compared to now. He wanted her close at all time, _safe_. He wanted to touch her and make sure she was real and not a figment of his imagination. He wanted to hold her close and breathe her smell in, even though the Capitol cells and Thirteen had efficiently destroyed her usual scent of make-up powder, perfume, and fruity shampoo.

Iris failed to hide her sigh of pleasure at the sight when Effie slipped her hand in his but Haymitch didn’t even care.

“Don’t you have to be in Command today?” Effie asked, as they walked around Thirteen’s corridors. She was looking everywhere, still trying to find her bearings.

“There’s nothing much to do for now.” he shrugged. “We’re regrouping. And you were released today which makes it a special day.”

“You are growing cheesy in your old age.” she teased. Her eyes were twinkling in amusement

“I will show you old age.” he scowled, mostly for show.

It wasn’t until the third elevator that she realized they were moving up instead of down.

“Are we going to the surface?” she asked, hopeful.

“Now, you do know what a surprise _is_ , don’t you, sweetheart?” he taunted. “Can’t spill the beans before we’re there.”

She rolled her eyes at him but linked her good arm with his and took advantage of the fact the elevator was empty to snuggle against his side. 

“You need to talk to Johanna.” she said softly and, at her tone, he knew it was serious. “She won’t listen to me.”

“Surprise, surprise.” he snorted. “You expected her to?”

Although, maybe she _did_. He couldn’t pretend to understand what was going on between the two of them. They still fought like cats and dogs but they were also very protective of each other and he had lost count of the number of times he had walked in their hospital room to find them sharing a bed. He would have been jealous if they hadn’t both looked so desperate each time it had happened. And who was he to deprive Jo of her comfort? Effie had him and Hayden. Who did Johanna have? Finnick was too busy living the dream with Annie and wasn’t as present for his friend as he maybe ought to.

“What am I supposed to talk to her about?” he asked.

“She and Katniss are sharing the girl’s morphling and that won’t do.” she retorted.

He wanted to ask how she knew since she had yet to see Katniss, but she and Johanna had been sharing a room until that morning, so the answer seemed obvious. He supposed that was the kind of things she would notice.

“Katniss doesn’t need it so much anymore.” he tempered.

“That is not a reason for Johanna to become addicted.” she argued with a definitive note to her voice that told him he would be forced to talk to Jo whether he liked it or not.

When the elevator opened and she glimpsed the first ray of sunlight, she gasped before laughing in delight. She hurried away from the compound and he followed at a more leisured pace, nodding at the soldier on watch duty on his way. Eventually, she sat on some rubble and tilted her head back, offering her face to the pale afternoon sun.

“I never thought I would see it again.” she confessed.

He watched her, drinking in the sight of her. Her hair had yet to regain its silky quality but it looked healthier, curling just up to her chin – he liked it better when it was long but she could have been as bald as Jo and he would have found her beautiful anyway – her blue eyes sparkled in happiness and a smile was tugging at her lips. She was gorgeous and alive and he loved her.

That was as simple as it got, really.

He wanted everyone to know he was hers and she was his. When everything would be over, he promised himself, he would do things the proper way.

He would marry her.

He knew she wished he would ask even though she had repeatedly declared herself satisfied with the knowledge she was the only one he wanted – and she deserved everything he could give.

He would marry her and they would spend the rest of their life together and they would be _fucking_ happy because they had _earned_ it.

“Staring is rude, Haymitch.” she grinned.

“Can’t help staring when you’re so _fucking_ beautiful.” he shrugged, sitting down next to her. He sought her lips immediately, enthralled by the way the sun danced on her face. She responded to his kiss eagerly, nibbling on his bottom lip until he opened his mouth for her. Her good hand was tangled in his hair, he had one arm around her waist, his other hand was stroking her thigh…

“Do you think Hayden would be willing to keep your mother away from your compartment for a while?” she hummed, her hand letting go of his hair to trail down his neck, his chest, and landing in his lap with a pleased purr. “I see you are not so tired anymore.”

“Sweetheart.” he growled in warning.

The lull in the war had allowed for more personal time. He had been able to give more attention to Peeta too, but, above all, it had allowed him to _rest_ and now that he didn’t feel on the verge of collapsing with every single step…

Her expert touch was enough to make him grow hard.

“Yes?” she asked innocently.

“Now, that’s _gross_.”

Effie jumped away from him with a guilty expression, her lips bruised from the kissing, watching the two newcomers with wide eyes. Haymitch rolled his eyes, swiftly crossing his legs to hide his boner.

“You have such a _shitty_ timing.” he complained.

“Haymitch, language.” Effie snapped before bolting to her feet with a bright smile.

Katniss greeted her with a smile of her own, accepting her suffocating hug and the immediate fussing over her injuries and hair and chapped lips with benevolence. There was no stopping their escort from rambling and the girl nodded through it all with more patience than Haymitch was willing to demonstrate.

Plutarch looked amused when he joined him on the rubble. “Are you alright, Haymitch? You look flustered.”

He glared at the Gamemaker who wasn’t half as funny as he thought he was. Neither was the Capitol’s pointed look at his lap.

“Wedding?” Effie squealed, loud enough to get Haymitch’s attention.

Apparently, Katniss had managed to squeeze a few words in between two of Effie’s monologues because she nodded. “Plutarch just told me.”

“I was hoping you would be willing to assist me with the preparations, Miss Trinket.” Plutarch graciously offered. “Fulvia has her hands full with the propos.”

“Oh, call me _Effie_ , please. And it would be my _absolute_ pleasure.” she replied with a face-eating grin.

Schedules, planning, bossing people around… Haymitch mused it was the perfect job for her, she was over the moon.

“Who’s getting hitched?” he frowned, completely out of the loop on that front.

“Annie and Finnick, of course.” Katniss retorted, rolling her eyes at his apparent stupidity.

For the next half hour or so, it was all talk about the wedding between the two Capitols, with the occasional fussing over Katniss on Effie’s part. She didn’t seem to be able to let go of the girl. The overbearing attention was starting to annoy Katniss, he could tell, but she suffered it well, even when Effie insisted on walking her back to the hospital – if only because their escort looked crushed at the idea of going back underground and leaving the sunlight behind.

Escorting Katniss back was only a decoy though, and one he saw through easily enough. Once they were there, she stopped at Johanna’s bedside and nagged at her to no end about the stolen morphling, impeding her recovery, and acting like a responsible adult for once. Haymitch tuned the argument out, happy to watch them fight from the threshold, relieved to see them both alive. Katniss sat crossed-legged on the other empty bed and sometimes butted in to give an unsolicited opinion.

Finnick showed up eventually, with Annie in tow, and settled on Jo’s bed. For a while, it was all snide comments and laughter and Haymitch felt the tension slowly leaving his shoulders and neck. He surprised himself by bursting out laughing once at one of Finnick’s gibes and eventually flopped down next to Katniss on the second bed.

They were in the middle of a heated debate over who would win in an actual fight, Effie or Johanna – it was a no brainer but Effie was making a compelling case for herself and Finnick kept arguing they shouldn’t underestimate the power of sharp nails while Annie repeatedly stated nobody had to fight anyone – when Hayden showed up. He knocked on the door, a little hesitant and cleared his throat.

“You know, everyone’s looking for you?” Hayden snorted, with more confidence than he was obviously feeling. Haymitch could read him like a book and if his brother had always been guarded  around victors before, now that he knew the truth about everything it was worse. “Bogs was starting to wonder if all the victors had escaped.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “If only. Come in and close the door, I’m tired of those nurses telling me to get dressed.”

“That would be because you insist on walking around wearing _nothing_.” Katniss pointed out very astutely.

“I’m not wearing _nothing_. I’m wearing a tank top and panties.” Johanna scowled.

“As opposed to the appropriate hospital gown.” Effie sighed, shaking her head at the younger woman.

Haymitch thought it was already a great step that Johanna was wearing anything at all. She had a taste for making everyone uncomfortable by getting naked in public places.

“That gown is _shit_ and you know it.” Jo accused. “It ruffles and it itches.”

“Hence, why they gave you clothes.” Finnick grinned. “You know? Those things you wear so people can’t tell just how cold you are by staring at your nipples…”

“Finnick!” Effie gasped in disapproval.

Annie swatted Finnick on the arm.  “You shouldn’t stare at Johanna’s nipples.”

“Yeah, golden boy.” Jo sneered. “Keep your eyes away from my tits.”

“Come in, Hayden.” Haymitch insisted when his brother hesitated too long. Hayden did as he was told and grabbed the only remaining empty chair.

“You’re all crazy.” Katniss declared.

“I’m afraid that’s a victor requirement.” Finnick retorted, flashing her his trademark wolfish grin. “Hey, we’re all here! The victors’ club.”

“Except Peeta.” the girl whispered sadly, looking down at her hands.

There was a moment of silence before Effie cleared her throat, making an obvious effort to make her voice sound cheerful. “And I am not a victor, of course. I am afraid I cannot belong to this club of yours, Finnick.”

“And I’m not one either.” Hayden cut in without the bitterness he had first displayed but with a touch of regret nonetheless.

There was another instant of awkwardness and then Johanna scoffed. “ _Bullshit_. You went in an arena? You stepped out? Makes you a victor in my book. Same as Annie. It doesn’t matter _how_ you got out, you _got out_ , you survived.” She shrugged and then nodded at Effie briskly. “And you… You’re _fucking_ ridiculous and I still hate your guts but you’ve got some balls and I can respect that. You’ve got victor potential alright.”

For a few seconds, nobody said anything and then Finnick chuckled. “Johanna Mason, the greatest orator who ever lived.”

That warranted him to be smashed in the face with a pillow.

“Play nice, kids.” Haymitch snorted.

It prompted Finnick to toss the pillow at his face which only ended up in a short pillow fight that Effie and Annie did their best to stop.

It was fun.

Haymitch had almost forgotten what it was to have fun.

“I need to go back to Command.” he sighed at some point, reaching out to brush his fingers against Effie’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine on your own?”

“I’ve got her.” Hayden promised, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. “I’ll see you later.”

_Later_ , it turned out, was optimistic. Busy or not, Command had a way of sucking you in and never spitting you out. It was the middle of the night before he managed to go back to his family’s compartment.

He had perfected the art of sneaking in and out without waking anyone, his mother always left a light in the small living-room area so he didn’t have to wander around in the dark. He could hear his brother’s snores and his mother’s deep breathing in the other room as he toed off his boots. He pulled the shirt over his head, too used to sleeping bare-chested even if it was cold to do otherwise, and took off his belt but didn’t bother with his pants. The last thing he did was reaching for the lamp, intending to turn it off.

“Please, don’t.” Effie whispered.

He glanced in the sleeping area, not entirely surprised to see her sitting on his bed. Somehow, he hadn’t expected her to go to sleep easily. He figured it was already a victory she hadn’t gone running to Johanna’s hospital room.

He left the light on and joined her in bed. It was a narrow fit but they were good at making that work. They settled with him on his back and her snuggled against his side, her head on his shoulder, her hand right over his heart, mindful of her injured arm. His thumb ran up and down her hip slowly, trying to lull her to sleep.

He wished it wasn’t weird to be lying in bed with her, in the most innocent sense of the term, when his mother was less than a feet away but it _was_ and he had the feeling he wouldn’t get much sleep either.

Effie never closed her eyes, she kept them riveted on the light spilling from the other room.

“You’re safe.” he murmured, careful not to speak loud enough to disturb his family. “There’s nothing in the dark that can hurt you.”

“I know.” she hummed softly. “It does not make it easier. It will be better with you here.” She briefly nuzzled his neck with her cold nose but it wasn’t as playful as it used to be. “I am sorry I am… Not _broken_. I am not _broken_ but I am…”

“Shattered?” he suggested, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re doing great if you ask me.”

“I wish everything was over.” she sighed. “I wish… I wish _the_ _war_ was over. I wish we could move on, start to have normal lives again.”

“That would be good.” he admitted. “I could go for a life where we don’t see each other only every three months.”

She was silent for a while but it wasn’t as comfortable as he would have liked. She was hesitant when she spoke again, too tentative for his tastes.

He wondered if she had changed her mind, if she didn’t want them to try at a proper life together anymore, if she wanted out…

“Haymitch, if Safia is alive…” she started.

“I know.” he cut her off with some relief. If _that_ was what she was nervous about, then everything was alright. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” she insisted. “Because she is five and you do not want children.”

“Sweetheart, you could have ten nieces I would still be sure.” he scoffed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Or _ever_ , really. We’re sticking  together from now on, yeah?”

“Yes.” she answered and he could hear all the usual love and fondness in her voice. “Where will we live? I love our apartment in the Capitol but…”

“ _Your_ apartment.” he corrected.

“It is as much yours as it is mine and you know it.” she scoffed.

And it was, when it came down to it. His stuff was all over her place: his clothes, his books, some knick knacks…

“If we win… We’re probably going to have to stay in the Capitol for a while.” he offered.

“But not forever, yes?” she insisted. “I don’t think I want to live there full time. There are too many bad memories. Twelve is not an option anymore either. We could go _anywhere_ , really… Start over. A clean slate.”

“Where do you want to go?” he hummed sleepily, still drawing silly patterns on her hipbone with his thumb.

“I don’t know.” she replied. “I could settle for one of the larger Districts. Somewhere anonymous enough that we would not draw stares in the streets.”

“Could go for Four.” he mumbled, starting to drift off. “Sea’s nice. Your niece would like it. Hazelle’s kids too. We could buy houses not too far from each other. I’m not sure they’ve got woods for Katniss to hunt in but she can learn to fish. Finnick will teach her.”

He could picture it already. They wouldn’t have to buy houses _right_ next to each other but it would be nice if they were in the same neighborhood and not too far from the beach.

“Can we paint it white with blue blinds?” she smiled, propping her chin on his shoulder to look at him. He could barely see her in the semi-obscurity but he loved the soft look on her face.

He didn’t need to ask to know she was yearning for that brand new life as much as he was. He was a little worried about her leaving the glittering world of the Capitol behind but he knew that, deep down, they had been through too much for that to hold her back. She wanted him for some mysterious miraculous reason. And he wanted her just as much. He wanted a life where he wouldn’t have to be the old victor and she wouldn’t have to be the escort. They could just be Haymitch and Effie and it would be perfect.

It was a perfect dream.

He should know better than dreaming this kind of things, really, but he wanted it _so much_ it was hard to rail himself in when it was almost within his grasp.

“Sure.” he shrugged. “We’ll paint the kitchen yellow.”

She always painted her kitchens yellow or different shades of orange. She liked her apartments vibrant with colors and he had come to accept that as a part of her.

“I think we should have our bedroom in some soft shades of blue.” she declared. “Something soothing to look at.”

He only had to lean in an inch or so to press his lips against hers.

“Anything you want.” he promised. “Except pink.”

“Safia loves pink.” she pointed out. “Her room would _have_ to be pink.” Her good mood melted like snow in the sun. “Assuming we find her.”

“If she’s alive, we’ll find her.” he repeated quietly. “And we’ll get her a pink room. Pink curtains and everything.”

“For someone who does not want children, you seem awfully calm about this.” she pointed out.

He gave her a one-shoulder shrug, careful not to dislodge her head, at a loss for how to express those conflicting feelings in his chest. What was there even to discuss? The girl might be dead already and if she wasn’t… Where else would she go but with Effie? And there was nothing on this earth that would make him give up on Effie. _Nothing_. If they were a package deal, he would take it and he suspected he wouldn’t mind so much.

It had never been about not _wanting_ kids but about _being afraid_ of not being able to protect them, about any kids of his being used as leverage like the rest of his family had been, about his kids being tossed in an arena to punish him like they had tossed Hayden in so many years ago…

“Hazelle’s kids are always running around Hayden.” he said. “I’m used to it. We could get a swing for her in the yard, what do you say? Would she like that?”

“She likes her dolls better than playing outside.” Effie offered, resting her cheek on his shoulder again – so he couldn’t see the sorrow and the worry on her face, he suspected. “She is a quiet child. Not shy exactly but quiet. Lyssa and my mother…” She stopped herself and audibly swallowed back the lump in her throat. “They raised her to be a perfect little lady. Well… Lyssa was not as strict as our mother was when we were children but… She is a very well-mannered little girl. She loves her tea parties and her dresses and…” Her voice caught. “I love her _so much_ , Haymitch. If she is dead I…”

He drew her closer, to the point she was almost lying on his chest, and tightened his arms around her. He didn’t promise they would find the kid. He _didn’t_ _know_ if they would find the kid. Depending on what Rufus had done with her she might be dead already and there was nothing worse than giving someone false hope only to take it away.

“What else do you want in the house?” he asked. “Describe it to me.”

It took several minutes before she had collected herself enough to speak without her voice faltering. She painted out in words their perfect dream house and he found himself agreeing with everything, sometimes adding something or ruling out something else. She wanted sliding bay windows that would give out on the backyard, she wanted mahogany furniture and a small room they could use as a study that would double as a library – because she didn’t want shelves full of books in every room and she knew that it was exactly how it would end if she gave him free reign. She wanted to see the sea from their bedroom and she wanted a huge bathtub in the bathroom. They could add a studio for Iris, she suggested, this way the old woman could live with them but still have her independence if she wanted it.

By the time they were done deciding every detail, he had concluded that what they wanted was too specific to be bought and they would have to build it. They could design it, he figured. Peeta could draw it… Construction might take a while but they still had the apartment in the Capitol to wait in and there would be no hurry once the war would be over. Between the two of them, they had enough money to get everything they wanted…

She fell asleep describing the flowers she would like in the yard.

He fell asleep picturing them living in the house with the blue blinds, unable to see themselves anything but happy in that place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are at chapter 100 and I'm a bit emotional haha. I can't thank you enough for following this story so far because too keep readers for 30 chapters is already hard but for a hundred, it's crazy and I was so certain nobody would be reading by this point anymore... Only 13 chapters to go to the end so I will save my teary thanks for the end but... I really appreciate every comment left on this story as well as the enthusiasm some of you had showed. So, thank you, really.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the somehow softer chapter! Let me know your thoughts!


	101. Chapter 101

Effie startled awake when a hand fell on her shoulder. She sat up, not managing to swallow back her scream, when an arm sneaked around her waist and pulled her back.

“ _Wow_ , easy!” someone shouted. “Mason, it’s only me!”

Effie’s heart was still racing but she forced herself to blink the sleep out of her eyes and take a good look at her surroundings. Not the cells but Thirteen’s hospital room. Her upper body was partially blocked by Johanna’s, their legs tangled because the victor had tried to shield her from the perceived danger by pushing her back.

Jo was breathing hard, threatening Hayden with a surgical blade that she must have snatched sometimes during her lurking around the hospital.

“It’s alright.” she breathed out. “Johanna, we are safe.”

It took a few seconds and some shattering breaths before Jo lowered her blade and shoved Effie’s legs off her lap.

“Did you have to _fucking_ scream?” the victor grumbled.

“It’s the day of the wedding!” Effie squealed, finally getting her bearings back. “There is no time to waste! Up, up, up! It’s going to be a big, big, _big_ day!”

She tried to force Johanna’s out of bed to Hayden’s utmost amusement but failed. Her attempts at convincing her to take a shower and put on the dress she had selected for her from Katniss’ collection in Twelve didn’t go better. In the end, she had to resign herself to follow Hayden out of the hospital, knowing Johanna would show up to the wedding wearing the usual grey uniform - if she bothered attending at all.

“You know, you can still sleep in our compartment even when Haymitch spends the night in Command.” Hayden pointed out tactfully. “I mean… If you want to bunk with someone, you can always sleep with me.” She lifted her eyebrows and he made a face. “Yeah, that sounds wrong but you get what I mean. Wouldn’t be the first time anyway.”

She chuckled. “I am not certain Hazelle would like it.”

“You can ask her.” he snorted. “She’s probably still in the dining hall.”

“Oh, I’m not going to the dining hall.” she protested. “I need to find Plutarch and check that everything is ready and…”

“And _I_ am under strict orders to, and I quote my brother here, ‘get your ass to breakfast’.” he countered. “So we’re going to breakfast. And then we’re going back to our compartment so you can get ready and fuss over Haymitch and me for not looking like you want us to look.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that and surrendered easily enough, figuring there would still be time to check on everything before the actual ceremony would start. She and Plutarch had made it work out of thin resources and a very tight budget but they had been working on it days and nights for two weeks and she hoped it would be everything Finnick and Annie deserved.

Planning the wedding had been good for her. It had helped taking her mind off things and it had often left her tired enough that she could actually get some proper sleep. When Haymitch was stuck in Command, she still tended to automatically head to Johanna’s hospital room though.

That couldn’t last naturally.

Johanna would be released soon enough and that little clutch of theirs – because, despite her grumblings, she knew Jo slept better too when there was someone she trusted at her back – needed to be abandoned.

The dining hall was packed.

She followed Hayden, now used to the routine of passing her wrist under the scan to get her allotted amount of food. She didn’t pay attention to where they were headed, figuring they would simply take their usual seats with the Everdeens, and startled a little when she realized Hayden had sat down in the midst of the Hawthornes and a bunch of people she didn’t know saved for Iris. Given the glares some of them were shooting at her, she deduced they were from Twelve.

And she had been _very_ careful to keep away from Twelve’s refugees until then.

“Sit down, dear.” Iris offered, patting the empty seat next to her.

“Are you serious?” an old man scoffed from further down the table. “You want us to eat with _that_ …”

“She’s my friend.” Hazelle cut him off, raising her voice enough that it didn’t leave room for arguments. “If anyone has a problem with her sitting here, there are other tables.”

A few people actually left and Effie couldn’t quite blame them. She had been to Twelve with Annie and Katniss to look for potential wedding dresses amongst the clothes Katniss had brought back from the Tour. She had expected destruction but not to that level. There were no words to describe the damages, the ruins, the charred bones peeking out here and there from under the dust and the ashes… She had thought Annie would never have been able to reach the Village. And the Village… It had  been eerie standing there. Nothing was out of place in the Village, not a single tile had been knocked off a roof.

The Capitol was responsible for the destruction of those people’s homes, for the loss of their friends and their families… Added to that her past as an escort… She didn’t blame them for hating her.

“Sit down, Effie.” Gale repeated with badly controlled hostility.

She had never allowed him to address her with such familiarity but the boy clearly didn’t like her and was making an effort to be polite for Katniss’ and Hayden’s sakes so she did as she was told, placing down her tray and sitting between Iris and another old woman. As soon as she was settled the conversations picked up again, mostly about the wedding. It seemed Hazelle’s youngest, Posy, was singing in the quickly assembled choir and was very excited about it. She commandeered everyone’s attention. Effie couldn’t quite keep her eyes off the child, unable to look at her and not think about her own niece.

She was brought out of her deep thoughts by a bony finger poking her in the side. She instinctively pressed a hand against her ribs, glad not to be burdened by the sling anymore even though her shoulder was still stiff, and turned her head toward the old woman who was watching her like a hawk.

“You’re Haymitch’s girl.” the woman said flatly, not hinting at it being a good or a bad thing.

Effie briefly glanced at Iris who was following the conversation with an amused smile and, perhaps, a little pride.

“Don’t frighten her, Sae.” Mrs Abernathy demanded, patting Effie’s shoulder. “I’d like him to keep this one.”

Sae’s stare was unnerving. Effie had the unpleasant sensation of being judged and she instinctively jutted her chin out, tired of being gawked out by everyone in that District. She silently challenged the old woman to _dare_ say anything bad against her or Haymitch. Instead of doing that though, Sae laughed a deep breathless laugh and reached around Effie to briefly squeeze Iris’ hand.

“Oh, yes, she will be just fine for him.” the District woman declared. “She needs fattening up though.”

And that was how Effie found herself forced to finish to the last crumb of bread on her tray, alternating between eating and shaking the hands of people being introduced to her. Some of them were welcoming. Sae’s granddaughter for instance, who wasn’t quite right in the head from what she gathered, was very nice. Some of Hayden’s and Hazelle’s friends were too. Most of the people remained guarded though and more than one shot her nasty looks.

All in all, it still went better than she had expected.

When Haymitch, Plutarch and Fulvia finally showed up, she had actually relaxed enough to laugh at some of Hayden’s jokes and even tease him right back. Bantering with Hayden was easy and familiar and, if she was a little wary at first that Hazelle wouldn’t take it too well, she was soon reassured on that front.

“You two ganging up on me? Not fair.” Hayden complained.

“The ladies are always right, baby brother.” Haymitch mocked, dropping in the seat Sae had vacated a few minutes earlier. He placed his arm on the back of Effie’s chair, it wasn’t quite wrapped around her shoulders but the gesture was meaningful all the same. If his intent hadn’t been clear, the gaze he leveled the other refugees with was. “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you cheat on me with Johanna again?”

“What can I say? Unlike you, she doesn’t snore.” she deadpanned.

“The ladies are always right.” Hayden mimicked back at him.

“Now, boys, don’t start.” Iris chided them good-naturedly.

Haymitch was far from thinking about fighting with Hayden though, he was looking at Effie with a smirk and a telltale spark in his grey eyes and she looked away before he could do something stupid like kiss her in front of everyone. She stood up, excusing herself to go get ready, only stopping long enough to exchange a few words with Plutarch. According to the Gamemaker everything was going as planned.

She wasn’t surprised when Haymitch followed her, a casual hand at the small of her back. They were almost at the dining hall’s doors when the comment reached her ears. It had been snorted by the old man who had left their table when she had first arrived.

“The two brothers trail after her like dogs in heat.” the man sneered to his friends, unaware of their presence behind him. “Some victors, they make. Under the Capitol slut’s thumb, more like. She must be something in the sack to control them like that.”

“ _Don’t_.” she warned, grabbing Haymitch’s arm before he could confront the man and make a scene. The old man’s friends had spotted them and were looking ill-at-ease, no doubt because of Haymitch’s frightening scowl. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’ve seen the eldest’s interview?” the old man continued, oblivious to their presence. “It’s a shame for the Odair kid. Good kid, looks like. Proper victor. But Abernathy? Don’t tell me he didn’t like it. He must have developed a taste for it or he wouldn’t be shacking up with a Capitol now, right? _Escort_ , no less. The escort who reaped _our_ kids…”

Haymitch tensed for entirely new reasons. Effie wanted to slap the old man who finally realized the reason for his friends’ embarrassed faces. To his credit he looked flustered, his eyes darting from her to Haymitch.

“You are lucky I have manners.” she hissed. “Think what you will about me but…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Haymitch echoed her words, nudging her away. “Let it go.”

“But…” she tried to argue.

“ _Let it go_ , sweetheart.” he insisted.

Hayden, Iris and a few other people from Twelve’s table were watching the scene from afar. Hayden was sporting a frown and was clearly ready to intervene at the smallest sign of trouble. Effie took a deep breath and let Haymitch steer her away, understanding that it wasn’t something he wanted his family to hear.

His mood had turned sour though and so had hers. They brooded for different reasons all the way to their compartment.

“We won’t let that idiotic man spoil the day.” she declared, forcing some cheer back in her voice. “Now, Haymitch, I _do_ hope you are planning on shaving.”

“I’m planning on joining you in the shower.” he snorted.

“Hot water is too precious to waste.” She shook her head. They were only allowed ten minutes of hot water per day and she needed to wash her hair if she had any hope of actually being presentable today. “Besides, Hayden and Iris will probably be there soon to get ready.”

He flopped down on his bed, not quite pouting but it was close. “I miss you.”

“Me too.” she admitted quietly. “But it’s a big, big, _big_ day and we do _not_ have time.” She went to him anyway. He looped his arms around her thighs and pressed his face against her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair, not needing to ask what was bothering him. “Do not think about it.” she whispered. “He was just an idiot. Nobody thinks you enjoyed it.”

“Sure.” he scoffed with bitterness, his words muffled by her stomach. “I’m a man, sweetheart. Most people don’t get _why_ I wouldn’t enjoy it. Men always enjoy sex, you know.”

She pursed her lips, wishing her right arm wasn’t still so stiff. She would have enjoyed slapping that man.

“Alright. The people who matter, the people you care about, know that you didn’t enjoy it.” she amended. “I know. Hayden knows. Your mother knows. That’s what counts, isn’t it?”

It was several seconds before he looked up at her, a little guarded but almost pleading at the same time.

“I love it. Having sex with you.” he declared. She frowned but, before she could ask, he shook his head. “Finnick said something and…” He shrugged “He says he can’t make the difference between Annie and the _appointments_ sometimes. I never had that problem. I don’t want you wondering, _ever_. I love it. There was never once when I didn’t love it.”

Was there anything else to do but kiss him? And, of course, the kiss grew heated and, of course, she ended up straddling his lap and, of course, the door slid open just as he was gripping her hips, urging her down to create friction.

“Oh, dear!” Iris gasped.

Hayden, on the other hand, burst out laughing.

Without understanding how it happened, Effie found herself on the cold hard floor, which made her switch from embarrassment to anger in record time.

“Did you just push me off you?” she hissed.

“Sorry.” Haymitch winced, tugging on his shirt to hide the boner that was very visible anyway. “Reflex. You’re hurt?”

There was genuine worry in his voice but she huffed, picked herself off the floor, grabbed the dress she intended to wear and hurried to the bathroom without daring to glance at his family. She _did_ swat Hayden’s arm on her way because he was laughing so hard tears were rolling down his cheeks – and it wasn’t _that_ funny.

Effie could hear Iris awkwardly clearing her throat through the bathroom door. “Honestly, Haymitch, couldn’t you lock the door? This brings back memories.”

“We’re _so not_ talking about _that_.” Haymitch sputtered and Effie couldn’t help but smile at the panic in his voice.

“You mean the time you caught him with that magazine and his hand down his pants?” Hayden taunted, obviously not recovered from his hilarity. “That was funny.”

“You think ‘cause she never caught _you_ she doesn’t know you jerk off too?” Haymitch immediately retorted. “Should I tell Mama about your crush on her redhead friend when you were fourteen?”

“Haymitch!” his brother snapped, not so amused anymore.

“Alyss?” Iris cut in, clearly flabbergasted. “But she was older than _me_.”

“And Hayden still had the hots for her!” Haymitch accused. “ _I_ caught him often enough and that’s not something I want to see ever again let me tell you!”

“Oh, like _I_ never caught _you_ jerking off!” Hayden shouted back. “That’s all you ever did every night the moment you reached thirteen!”

Effie rolled her eyes and stepped under the water spray, wondering how it was that those two could be so serious one second and act like five years old the next.   

She took her time in the bathroom, doing what she could and still not satisfied with the result.

She had altered the dress so it would fit her but she didn’t look as she used to and it still looked loose on her. Her figure was skeletal rather than thin, her breasts weren’t as full as they used to, the three-quarter length sleeves hid some of the most nasty bruises and scars but not all. Her hair was too short to be pinned up in a pretty fashion so she let it loose, still wishing she had a wig or a silk scarf to cover it – the fact that Haymitch loved her best looking natural didn’t mean she enjoyed walking around this District looking plain. And since there was no access to make-up, her face would have to remain bare. She stepped out of the bathroom after long minutes of staring at her reflection and hating what she was seeing.

They all stared when she appeared and she self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Perhaps I should stick to the uniform.” she admitted dejectedly, after a few minutes of silence. Going to a wedding wearing grey seemed like a huge fashion crime to her but almost everyone would be wearing their uniform anyway.

“Oh, no, dear, you look dashing!” Iris refuted, immediately swatting Haymitch’s head. “Haymitch, tell your girl she looks dashing.”

It was still odd… Openly being called _his_ _girl_. She could get used to it though. 

“She looked better.” Haymitch replied honestly.

“Haymitch!” both Iris and Hayden rebuked as one.

“She _did_.” he shrugged. “She knows it, it’s all over her face, there’s no point in lying.” Hayden was glaring at his brother but before he could say anything Haymitch reached out and grabbed her hand. “I still think you’re beautiful, sweetheart, but it doesn’t matter what I think anyway. What do _you_ think?”

It was tempting to take the coward's way out and change back into the uniform but the dress was light and she loved the feeling of silk under her fingers. She also loved the pale pink color and that particular dress had been designed by Portia, she knew because she had been present when her friend had sketched it.

“I think I like the dress.” she whispered with more confidence than she felt. _Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_ , she told herself.

“Good.” he smirked. “The bruises will go away, the scars will fade and Mama will stuff you like one of the geese. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

She laughed those words away and fussed over them all for a while, berating Haymitch until he shaved and manhandling Hayden into buttoning his shirt properly for once instead of leaving it hanging open over his grey undershirt. Then it was her turn to be fussed over, as Iris smoothed the silk of her dress and patted her hair, trying to make up for Haymitch’s lack of compliments no doubt.

“You’re still one of the prettiest women I know.” Hayden managed to tell her while his brother and his mother were busy arguing. “Who cares about bruises and scars? And what if you lost some weight…”

She supposed it wasn’t easy to understand for someone like Hayden that her alluring body and her pretty face had been her most precious tools for as long as she could remember. Her beauty was her job. Her beauty defined her on more than one level. Without it… Without it, she wasn’t sure _who_ she was.

Haymitch understood that, which was why he hadn’t lied.

“Go get your girlfriend.” Haymitch snorted, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist. “Stop sweet talking mine.” She turned her head so quickly something snapped in her neck. Being called _his girl_ was strange enough but hearing _him_ referring to her as his _girlfriend_? It was surreal. He caught her stare and made a face. “Yeah, we’re too old for that word.” he granted. “Come on, we’re going to be late and Effie will have a stroke.”

The prospect of being late erased all other concerns from her mind.

She shouldn’t have worried.

The wedding was a smash.

She cried during the ceremony, which was only to be expected despite Haymitch’s numerous teasing comments, and she flew left and right during the reception to make sure everything was _perfect_. Plutarch was more worried about the cameras and the general look of the wedding but Effie was only concerned with making it the best day ever for Finnick and Annie.

Eventually, Finnick grabbed her, hugged her, planted a kiss on her cheek and told her to go have some fun and stop fussing over everything. She spotted Johanna goading Katniss on the dance floor, Jo was wearing her uniform instead of the dress she had picked for her but she was smiling for the first time in weeks. She also spied Haymitch’s and Hayden’s muscular backs on a bench not too far from the girls and she headed there.

Hayden was staring at Hazelle, who was dancing with her eldest son, obviously having a very good time, and Haymitch was clearly finding the whole thing hilarious. “Is it giving you ideas, baby brother? Are you ready to tie the knot?”

“Are _you_?” Hayden replied with good humor but genuine curiosity.

Little Posy skidded to a stop in front of them and dragged Hayden away to dance with her before Haymitch could answer. Effie took the vacated seat with her usual elegance and didn’t even pretend not to have heard the conversation.

“I seem to remember you offering to put a ring on my finger.” she hummed.

“I’ll get you a ring.” he snorted. “It will be pink and so heavy you won’t be able to move your hand anymore.”

She batted her eyelashes at him in fake admiration. “You know me _so_ well.”

They both laughed. He shook his head, growing more serious, and placed a hand on her knee. “When everything’s over, Princess.” He gave her leg a little squeeze.

She flashed him a soft smile. “I really do not mind one way or the other, you know. It would be nice but I do not need it to know that what we have is real.” She loosely hooked a finger on the bangle around his wrist. He already had something to mark him as hers. Her eyes wandered around, taking in the sight of their friends having fun. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Finnick and Annie slow dancing in the middle of the room despite the fact that the beat of the music was too quick for that. They were kissing, only stopping long enough to exchange soft grins and loving glances before kissing again. She let out a small happy sigh. “They are sweet.”

“Yeah.” Haymitch agreed with a proud smile of his own. His thumb ran up and down the side of her knee. “We can be sweet too, you know.” He pressed a purposeful kiss on her shoulder. “No point hiding it anymore. There are no more secrets.”

He leaned in but she hastily turned her head away before he could kiss her.

“Being seen with me in this capacity would be detrimental to your reputation in this District.” she said flatly. “You are one of their leaders. I don’t think…”

“Are you ashamed of me?” he cut her off.

“Of course not!” she huffed. “How can you even…”

“Then why are you expecting me to be ashamed of you?” he retorted with a smug smirk.

This time, when he leaned in, she let him. There was pride in that kiss, pride to be able to claim her as his for everyone to see. They had been through so much, had been hiding for so many years… It felt odd to be _that_ open in public.

“I’m done hiding this.” he mumbled against her lips. “I’m _done_.”

They kept kissing until his hand became a little too insistent on her leg. She drew back, out of breath, and with the feeling her lips were thoroughly bruised.

“As much as I love _sweet,_ I would rather be alone with you, Haymitch.” she whispered.

“Let’s sneak out.” he suggested at once, standing up and hauling her to her feet by the hand. “I’ll remember to lock the door this time.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. They were halfway to the exit when the cake was brought in and they caught Katniss staring at it. Haymitch stopped and winced, shooting Effie an apologetic smile.

“Go.” she said.

He sighed and pressed a last peck on her lips.

“You won’t escape me forever, sweetheart.” he promised.

She swore to herself that she would hold him to that.


	102. Chapter 102

The second Johanna’s eyes blinked open she started thrashing against the soft straps binding her to the hospital bed.

“Don’t.” Effie whispered in a soothing voice, bolting out of her chair to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Just calm down and I will undo them.”

She was certain she would get an earful from the nurses but she couldn’t care less. She had told Haymitch time and time again that Johanna wasn’t ready for training, she had told them _all_. And she had been ignored. Just like she had been ignored when she had said Katniss shouldn’t be training for a combat unit and Finnick should stay back in Thirteen with his wife. But _no_ … They had to play the heroes.

Well…

Look at how it turned out.

Katniss and Johanna had been struggling through training for a couple of weeks now while Effie watched from the sidelines, reduced to doing laundry and washing dishes alongside Hazelle – Coin had expressly forbidden her presence anywhere near Command. Without propos to shoot, there was no need for a full time escort, which meant she had to make herself useful in another way if she wanted to eat, Plutarch had tried to have her on as his assistant but Fulvia was already there to fill that role and that had been ruled out too.

“Trinket.” Johanna spat. The more she blinked, the more focused she got. The sedatives they had given her were light ones and Effie was certain everything was coming back to her: the final exams and how they had flooded the street she was standing in, the flashbacks and the panic attack. She looked calm enough so Effie unstrapped her, running her hands over each of her wrists soothingly.

“You will be alright now.” she promised. “I am here.”

“I failed, right?” Johanna scowled. “They won’t let me go now…”

Effie confirmed by shaking her head. She was about to tell her it wasn’t such a bad thing when the victor burst into tears.

When Johanna cried, it was always quietly, with her back turned, and grumbling death threats in case anyone _dared_ acknowledge her moment of weakness all the while. It was so shocking to see her sobbing her heart out that Effie remained frozen for a second before she took action.

“Don’t touch me!” Jo hissed. “Get out of here!”

Effie was stubborn though and she didn’t relent. Johanna struggled but, eventually, she gave in out of sheer exhaustion and let the escort hug her. She didn’t hug back but she stopped trying to push her away.

“It will be alright.” Effie repeated. “I am _right here_. You are not alone. You do not have to go through any of this alone. It does _not_ matter if you failed or not, Johanna, it does not matter _in the least_. You did _very well_ and I am _very_ _proud_ of you.”

She petted her peach fuzz and made soothing noises, repeating again and again that it would be alright.

“You’re not my mom.” Jo grumbled at some point. “Stop acting like you’re everyone’s mom.”

She tightened her hold on the victor.

“I may not be your mother but I have known each of you since you were teenagers.” she sighed. “I have seen you grow up. I have seen you fight against impossible odds. I have seen you become the adults you are today. And I am _proud_. I love you all. Even _you_.”

That last part made Johanna snort through her tears.

“I still hate you, Trinket.” Seven’s victor mumbled.

It was Effie’s turn to chuckle.

Johanna did her best to hide it but she was really shaken and Effie remained by her side the whole afternoon, trying to distract her with her chatter. She stayed until Finnick showed up, hands in his pockets and wolfish grin on his lips.

She left them with a promise to come back later, knowing there were things Johanna would confess to Finnick she wouldn’t admit to in front of her. Finnick was her best friend and Effie could understand that. There were things she would only confess to Hayden.

She had just reached the Abernathy’s compartment and was catching Iris up on what had happened when Haymitch walked in.

She smiled because she hadn’t seen him much in the past few weeks. He had been holed up in Command preparing the Capitol’s assault. Since Johanna had been rooming with Katniss, she had actually taken to sleep with Hayden at night when the anxiety became too much. Nobody ever mentioned it outside of their room, somehow, Effie didn’t think Hazelle would understand or approve.

Haymitch looked grim and nervous. He buried his hands in his pockets and licked his lips.

“How’s Jo?” he asked.

Effie’s smile faltered. “She will survive.”

Her tone was curt, mainly because they had argued about this at length – about the victors they had done their best to shelter for years going out _to war_. Iris glanced at them and disappeared in the sleeping area to give them a little privacy. It was only the appearance of it, of course, the compartment was too small for it to be otherwise and the old woman pretending to shift clean laundry around wasn’t convincing.

“Katniss passed the test.” he informed her. “She and Finnick have been assigned to a squad. The star squad. They’re getting deployed in a few days. Hayden got assigned to that squad too, he’s leaving with them.” That last part was directed toward his mother. Iris froze, a pile of grey uniforms in her hands but Haymitch went on, his face blank and his voice flat. “He’s with Hazelle. He will come back later.”

Iris pursed her lips tight and turned her back on his son, probably to process the news.

Effie sat down heavily.

“You can’t.” she heard herself say. “You _can’t_ send Katniss out there. She’s… She’s _fragile_ , Haymitch. She’s…”

“She’s the face of the rebellion.” he cut her off. “I don’t like it any more than you do. Hopefully, they will keep them well away from the front lines. They just want them on camera.”

There was something _definitive_ to his voice that told her there would be no more discussing it.

As for Hayden leaving too… Leaving for _combat,_ regardless of it being front lines or not…

“I am going to spend the night with Johanna.” she declared coldly, pushing herself to her feet. “And if Katniss is really leaving… Johanna cannot live on her own. Maybe I should move in with her.”

“Move her in here.” Haymitch countered, glancing at Iris who still had to turn back to face them. “If that’s okay with you, Mama?”

“Of course.” Iris offered with a shaking voice.

Effie tried to walk past him only to be stopped by his hand on her arm.

“Don’t be like this.” he growled. “You think I like it? It’s not _my_ fault, sweetheart.”

“I know and I apologize but it is _too much_.” she answered softly, getting free of his grip and fleeing the compartment.

Katniss, Finnick and Hayden…

She didn’t have a lot of people she loved left alive. And sending those three out there… It was maybe more than she was ready for.

At least she was keeping Peeta, she mused. At least _Peeta_ would be _safe_.

Johanna’s room smelled like pine trees and the pungent scent of the forest. When she asked, the victor nodded to the bundle Katniss had fetched from the surrounding woods for her. Jo didn’t say anything but Effie knew she was more touched by the gesture than she would have ever admitted. For all her attitude, Seven’s victor dearly missed her home. 

It was only later, when they were lying back to back on that narrow hospital bed, trying and failing to remember they weren’t in their cell anymore, that Johanna addressed the elephant dancing in the room.

“It’s good they’re going.” the victor snapped. “I would go too if I could.”

“I know you would.” Effie admitted. “I just wish you would all leave the fighting to someone else.”

“If everyone left the fighting to someone else, nobody would ever fight.” Johanna retorted. “That’s how we got in this _shit_ in the first place.”

There was truth to her words and Effie could acknowledge it.

That didn’t make it any easier to accept.

°O°O°O°

The hovercraft’s hangar was packed with families sending their loved ones to war and the surrounding noise was almost too much for Haymitch. The children’s wailing particularly.

Posy was in tears and nothing anyone could say would comfort her.

She clung to Gale like she was drowning, refusing to let go despite Hazelle’s best efforts. Haymitch watched his own mother hiding her tears from Hayden – and Effie, who had had that fake bubbly smile fixed on her lips since she had appeared that morning, couldn’t seem be able to let go of Katniss either. Annie and Finnick were locked in an embrace, whispering sweet nothings to each other, and Haymitch felt the feeling of foreboding growing deeper.

He moved to the girl first, rescuing her from their escort’s suffocating embrace with a half-cooked joke. Katniss felt small and fragile in his arms and, once again, he wondered at the cleverness of sending her out there.

He was against it.

He had been against it from the start.

“Don’t do anything stupid this time, sweetheart.” he begged, already knowing that it was a hopeless plea. Katniss was far from being stable and Peeta’s unwavering hatred toward her was only making things worse.

“You take care, Haymitch.” she answered, planting a kiss on his cheek – which let him know she was planning something _stupid_.

He dragged Effie away all the same, leaving the girl to her family. Prim was keeping a good poker face but Aster was crying and it fell to Katniss to comfort her mother.

Effie moved on to Finnick next but Haymitch wandered closer to his own family. Iris spotted him and finally released her youngest son, briefly cupping his face and begging him once more to be careful before walking to Hazelle to help her with her kids.

Haymitch and Hayden stared at each other for a while. They were ill-at-ease and shuffled on their feet awkwardly until Haymitch rolled his eyes and grabbed him into a bear hug.

“Don’t be the hero.” he told his brother. “If it comes down to you or someone else, you save yourself. Don’t make me bury you.”

“Don’t worry.” Hayden joked. “We have some house shopping to do in Four, if I understood it right. Effie spilled the beans.”

He snorted. “Of course, she did. You’re okay with living in Four?”

“Are you actually asking my opinion about this?” his brother laughed, breaking the hug to clap his shoulder. “Maybe things _do_ change. Yeah, I talked to Hazelle about it, she’s not against the idea. A clean slate would do us all a lot of good.”

Haymitch studied his brother, committing his face to memory. It felt too much like sending him to the fifty-fifth Hunger Games’ arena. The memory was intrusive and, for a second, he wasn’t sure if Hayden was fifteen or thirty-five.

“Please, don’t get killed.” he begged.

Hayden’s smile was strained but a good attempt at dismissing his concern. “I made you a promise after the Quell announcement, you remember?”

He nodded once. He didn’t need to ask what his brother was talking about, the glance Hayden shot in Hazelle’s direction was enough. Hayden had promised to take care of Effie if anything happened to him and Haymitch would honor that promise back. “Don’t worry about that. They’re family.”

“Good.” Hayden smiled. He hesitated a little. “When I come back… I would like us to talk. I know you don’t want to tell me about…” He let that sentence trail off and then shrugged. “I want us to _talk_. I want to understand what was real and what was fake. I _need_ to know. I want my big brother back.”

Again, Haymitch nodded, not trusting the lump in his throat to give a verbal answer. He was almost glad for the interruption when Finnick appeared, clapping Hayden’s shoulder good naturedly.

“Katniss and the rest of the team are already in the hovercraft.” Four’s victor said. “Go rescue Gale so we can take off before Boggs has an aneurism. He’s worse than Effie with schedules.”

Hayden gave a curt nod to Finnick and a last smile to Haymitch. “Any last advice?”

“Stay alive, baby brother.” Haymitch breathed out.

He watched Hayden move away to where the Hawthornes were having a familial crisis with Posy wailing so loud she was setting off other children in the hangar. He never reached them, Effie intercepted him, wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. She tried to keep her cheerful smile but it melted once Hayden hugged her back. He couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other but he didn’t quite need to. Hayden would make her promise to keep an eye on him, like always, and Effie would beg him to come back in one piece.

He turned to Finnick, whose wolfish grin was starting to waver and accepted the hug the boy offered.

“Be a clever boy and don’t get yourself killed.” Haymitch ordered, trying hard and failing to remind himself Finnick was now twenty-four and not fourteen. It was difficult though, not to remember the teenager who would trail after him and Chaff everywhere, who would steal their glasses of whiskey when they weren’t looking and get them in trouble with their respective escort. “You’ve got that girl of yours to think about.”

“Keep an eye on that girl of mine.” Finnick replied cheekily, stepping back. “I’ll keep an eye on your brother and your Mockingjay.”

“Sure.” Haymitch granted with a nod. He wasn’t planning on leaving Annie to fend for herself anyway.

Iris finally managed to drag Posy away kicking and screaming, leaving Gale free to join the others in the hovercraft. Hayden stole a last kiss from Hazelle, exchanged a last whisper, ruffled Vic’s and Rory’s hair and then he was gone too. The hovercraft’s door closed  and the engine kicked in.

Effie’s hand slipped into his and he squeezed it once.

“Promise me they will be alright.” she requested.

He wasn’t in the habit of lying to her if he could help it.

He remained silent.


	103. Chapter 103

The four days after the Star Squad’s departure were tense and stressful.

Effie had never done laundry in her whole life and weeks of being tasked with it hadn’t made her any quicker or more gifted in the trade. She was slow and tired and Hazelle kept snapping at her for doing everything wrong until they both got kicked out of the laundry room by their supervisor for screaming at each other like banshees.

Hazelle wasn’t faring better with Gale and Hayden’s absence than she was. The lack of news was the worst. They glimpsed the Star Squad on TV sometimes, when the propos aired, and it didn’t help that it always seemed to be in combat situations.

Plutarch insisted it was all safe, that it was all for show…

Effie was intimately acquainted with cameras and makeshift stories. What she was seeing on the screens wasn’t for show. It was a real war, with real guns and real people dying.

She and Hazelle ended up in the dining hall, still grumbling about dirty sheets, softeners, and water temperature. Effie was relieved to spot Johanna and Annie at one of the tables and headed straight there, dropping on a chair only to frown when she glimpsed Annie’s radiant expression and Johanna’s scowl.

“What happened now?” she sighed.

“I’m pregnant!” Annie exclaimed.

Effie blinked and then offered her most sincere congratulations, hugging the girl tight.

“That’s wonderful news.” Hazelle added. “Congratulations.”

“ _Fucking_ stupid.” Jo grumbled.

Seven’s victor wasn’t doing well with being kept on the sidelines while the others fought. Effie had suggested to Fulvia they could shoot propos with her in studios but she had been denied. They had enough material with the Star Squad.

The mood was a good one and it made for a nice change.

Hazelle answered all of Annie’s questions about pregnancy, they talked about potential baby names and how happy Finnick would be, about baby clothes and maybe throwing a baby shower as soon as the war would be over – Effie volunteered to organize that – and for a while, there was only laughter, happy squeals and Jo’s side comments.

Until Prim skidded to a halt next to their table, grabbing Effie’s arm and ignoring everyone else.

“Peeta’s gone from the hospital.” she panted, completely out of breath. She must have run all the way from there. “They won’t tell me what’s happening but I heard someone died in Katniss’ squad and they took away the handcuffs and they’re sending him as a replacement. I can’t get _anyone_ to tell me what’s going on.”

“Who died?” Hazelle asked, reaching for the girl’s arm and shaking it without any gentleness. “Prim, _who_ died?”

Effie stepped in between the two of them, shielding the girl from Hazelle’s understandable concern.

Prim shook her head, tears pooling in her blue eyes. “I don’t know!”

“Stay here, I will find out.” Effie ordered the girl, pushing back on Hazelle’s shoulder when she stood up to follow her. “No, you too.”

The joyful mood was entirely gone. Annie was clutching Johanna’s hand and rocking a little on herself, Jo was grim faced and Hazelle looked terrified.

Effie was stopped three corridors away from Command and she had to make a scene. She wasn’t above screaming and she wasn’t above ripping those soldiers a new one. It took ten minutes and her nearly getting arrested for Haymitch to finally step out of Command.

He marched on her with an angry face, grabbed her arm with enough strength to leave a bruise and  dragged her to an empty briefing room. He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What the _fuck_ are you trying to do?” he shouted. “You think it’s clever to make that woman angry? You think she would hesitate to throw you in a cell? You want to go back to prison so badly?”

She hadn’t seen Haymitch in four days.

And she didn’t like his tone.

_At all_.

“Where is Peeta?” she hissed.

He tried to hide it but she saw the change in his face, the moment when the anger morphed into a profound emotional exhaustion.

“Who is dead, Haymitch?” she repeated, her voice breaking because she could imagine it already: being told it was Katniss or Hayden or Finnick or even Gale and having to go back to her friends and relay the information.

“One of the Leeg sisters.” Haymitch finally answered.

“Plutarch said it wasn’t dangerous.” she snapped. “He said…”

“They’re in a war zone.” he cut her off. “There’s danger everywhere.”

Her heart was racing and she was short of breath. “And Peeta?” she forced herself to ask.

“He’s her replacement.” he sighed. “Coin thought the propos needed some more heat.”

There was sarcasm there but she ignored it. “She knows what she’s doing by sending Peeta. She knows what he might do to Katniss. She wants her dead.”

Haymitch lowered his eyes. “Hayden, Finnick and Gale won’t let that happen.”

“Fine, Hayden, Finnick and Gale will protect Katniss.” she retorted. “Who will protect _Peeta_? I can’t believe you would do that. I can’t believe you would choose _her_ over _him_ again. They’re both important, Haymitch. They’re both…”

“You think I don’t know that?” he growled. “You think I don’t…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I had no choice in the matter, sweetheart. It was done behind my back. Almost everything is decided behind my back now. I’m useful to them for strategy and that’s it, that’s all the weight I have. And even that… I spent most of my time playing it for the cameras so they can show the world the Capitol Playboy is serious about working for the rebels. I’m _still_ a puppet. They’re…” He stopped again. “I can only do so much now, Effie. I’m hoping Katniss will be smart and remember he’s not the enemy.”

She pursed her lips. “Katniss is many things but she never makes the smart choice.”

“No.” he sighed. “No, she doesn’t.”

°O°O°O°

Katniss never making the smart choices was confirmed the following day.

Haymitch’s heart was heavy when he headed toward the dining hall. He found Effie, Johanna, Annie, Hazelle and his mother there, talking over their trays of food with a gloomy expression. Effie was making an attempt at cheering the others up, he could tell, but that wasn’t working. And her face fell when she saw his approach.

She knew him too well.

And he was sure the dread was written all over his face.

Conversations died when he reached them and they all stared at him in silence for a few minutes. It was Johanna who broke it.

“Who died?” Seven’s victor challenged.

Haymitch wasn’t in the mood to play games.

“Boggs.” He answered. “The Squad has gone AWOL. They’re presumed dead.”

Silence was deafening.

The only sound was his mother hiccupping and then pressing a hand against her chest.

“Mama.” He worried immediately, reaching out for her shoulder but she waved him off.

“ _Presumed_.” Iris hissed. “You said _presumed_.”

He nodded. “The Capitol announced their death. There’s footage but there’s no visual confirmation. We’re hoping…”

“Hoping.” Hazelle repeated flatly before starting to chuckle with so much bitterness it could have rivaled his. “My son and my… Gale and Hayden are presumed _dead_ and _you_ are _hoping_?” She shook her head and covered her face with her hands.

“You can’t lose hope, dear.” Iris whispered, patting her shoulder. “I’m sure…

“No.” Hazelle snapped, shrugging the hand off and standing up. She blinked, dazed, and then shook her head again. “I need to check on my kids. I need to make sure they don’t hear about this.”

Annie and Effie still had to react. Annie was rocking on herself and it wasn’t until Johanna wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, whispering something in her ear that she seemed to calm down. Effie was staring blankly ahead.

“I need to go back to Command.” he said. “I’ll tell you as soon as there’s any news.”

He was two corridors away when he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. He paused and turned around in time to open his arms. Effie crashed into him, locking her arms around his neck and holding tight.

“Hayden and the children will be fine.” she whispered. “They will be fine. They have to. They will be fine.”

He closed his eyes and nodded against her neck, finding it impossible to talk around the lump in his throat. He wanted to scream and he wanted to throw up. Above all, he wanted to drink it all away.

“They’re behind enemy lines.” he muttered. He shouldn’t be telling her this but he didn’t even care anymore. With each passing hour, he was shut off a little more from Coin and Plutarch’s discussions. Beetee had been called in but he had been asked to see to the troops deployment while they talked about something else, a secret weapon he wasn’t privy to. He didn’t know what Operation Hummingbirds was. But he didn’t like it.

“They will hide.” Effie replied. “Finnick knows the Capitol as well as I do and they have Cressida with them. They will find a safe place and hide.”

He hesitated before pressing his mouth to her ear, unwilling to confess what he was about to tell her in the middle of a corridor. “I think Katniss is going for Snow.”

She went rigid but didn’t otherwise react.

“Was that a plan?” she asked. “You and Katniss have _a knack_ for making plans behind mine and Peeta’s back.”

He shook his head and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I have to go back to Command.”

“Tell me as soon as you have news.” She demanded.

“Yeah.” He agreed.

At least, Effie and his mother were safe, he told himself. It didn’t account to much compared to what he could be about to lose – or had maybe already lost – but it was at least that.

He had to believe they were all alive.

He had to.

°O°O°O°

Johanna was chewing on her nail but Effie was tired of calling her out on it. She was huddled at the foot of her bed, in their compartment, her arms hugging her knees tight to her chest. Iris was sitting next to her, close to the pillow, and was knitting with nervous little moves. The needles kept jerking and clicking. It was the only sound in the silence.

Annie had been admitted to the hospital. She had collapsed and wouldn’t stop rocking, humming an odd song to herself and calling for Finnick from time to time. Effie and Johanna hadn’t been allowed to stay with her. Later, the doctors had said but for now she needed her rest. They were concerned about the baby.

Hazelle had gathered her children and had holed herself up in their compartment where no disturbing news could reach them. Effie thought she wasn’t just hiding the truth from her children but from herself. She didn’t want to be told Gale or Hayden were dead. Effie could understand that with perfect clarity. She might not have given birth to Katniss and Peeta but she felt as if they were her own all the same and with Safia lost who knew where…

Aster and Prim had been told but were still working in the hospital. Prim had been assigned to a moving unit, which Effie didn’t like but the girl was delighted and the escort had been assured that particular unit wasn’t to go in a combat zone.

They had been waiting for hours. There was nothing else to do but that.

When the door slid open quietly and almost reluctantly, Effie wished they could wait forever. She realized she didn’t want to hear.

Haymitch stood there, a hand still on the door, the other gripping the awful black beanie and bundling it between his fingers in unconscious spasms. His face was blank but Effie knew better. She _always_ knew better.

Johanna opened her mouth, probably to ask for the third time who had died, and closed it again without uttering a sound.

It was _obvious_ someone _had_ died.

Effie was just wondering who and how many.

“Is it Hayden?” Iris asked, jutting her chin in the air in an attempt at ruling in her emotions.

She wanted it straight then. Effie wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it straight.

It took almost a whole minute for Haymitch to answer. He was trying to collect himself, Effie mused, to keep up the pretense of being detached, to make sure his voice would remain steady.

His voice wasn’t steady.

It was weak and rough.

“Katniss and Cressida are alive.” he said. “ _That,_ we know for certain. There is no confirmation one way or another for Hayden, Peeta, Gale or Pollux.”

Effie closed her eyes and bowed her head, relief mixing with dread in her chest.

“The others?” Johanna pressed.

“How do you know?” Iris asked at the same time.

Again, Haymitch took too long to answer. His hands were shaking and he let go of the door to bury them in his pockets.  

“Beetee has hijacked the whole Capitol camera surveillance network. We were looking for the squad, we found them in the sewers.” he answered in a flat voice. “Hayden was still alive at that time, the image after that isn’t clear enough for us to be sure.  We lost the feed.”

“You didn’t say anything about the rest of the team.” Johanna insisted.

And since Johanna couldn’t care less about the soldiers assigned to the squad, Effie understood who she was _really_ talking about. However, Haymitch remained silent, his jaw clenched and his eyes riveted to the floor.

“Haymitch…” she whispered.

He looked up then. His grey eyes were bright with tears he wouldn’t shed, his jaw so clenched his lips were slightly wobbling with the effort it took him to suppress his emotions.

“No.” she gasped. “ _No_.”

The tears were immediate. How could they not? But she was too shocked to realize. It was too brutal, too unexpected, too…

“They were attacked by mutts. Castor and Homes were killed almost right away. Finnick bought them time to escape.” he said. “He was lost and it wasn’t pretty, so Katniss detonated the Holo. That’s why we lost the feed and that’s why I don’t know if the others are alive or dead. Katniss and Cressida were out of the sewers for certain, I don’t know about the rest of them.”

Silence followed that explanation.

Johanna was the first to react. She started laughing.

“He’s dead?” she cackled in a hysterical fashion. “He’s _dead_?”

Haymitch gave a curt nod.

She stopped laughing as quickly as she had started and suddenly punched the wall. It was obviously painful but Effie didn’t make the mistake of walking over to her. Johanna was hurting and when Johanna was hurting she was dangerous.

“I need some air.” Seven’s victor mumbled and then she stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Effie had yet to move.

She couldn’t _process_ it.

“Mama, can you tell Hazelle?” Haymitch asked and it wasn’t really a request.

“I’m not sure we should tell her anything yet.” Iris countered, shaking her head. She brought unsteady hands to her face and then dropped them back in her lap, on her forgotten knitting. “When we know more…”

“I need the room.” he cut her off. “Now.”

Iris frowned, her eyes darting from her son to Effie and then nodded with a new understanding. She stood up and left, but not before dropping a kiss on his cheek.

“I know how much you love that boy.” Iris offered. “I’m sorry.”

The second his mother was gone, he crumpled. His shoulders sagged, his mask of indifference melted into _pain_ and _anger_.

Effie watched, completely stunned, as he grabbed a chair and flung it at the other end of the compartment. It bounced against the wall and clattered to the ground.

“He’s dead.” Haymitch spat. “Finnick’s _dead_.”

Effie could only blink.

How could Finnick be dead? ‘ _You’re very pretty’_ , were the first words he had said to her, ‘ _And by pretty, I mean hot_.’ She could still _hear_ him, she could still _see_ him walking backward in Twelve’s Justice Building’s corridors, flashing that grin that would soon have the Capitol in uproar… ‘ _Ours will be a very tragic love story’_ , he had joked.

He had been fourteen, only fourteen.

And he was barely twenty-four.

He had just gotten married.

He was going to be a father and he would never know. 

Haymitch dropped on the bed next to her, burying his fingers in his hair, his head bowed.

“I failed him.” he muttered. “I failed Mags. I promised I would keep him safe. I promised I…” His voice broke and he angrily wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I should have been with them. I should have…”

“No.” she cut him off. “No. I can’t lose you too. I _can’t_.”

He looked up at her and swallowed back a shaky breath before reaching for her face. She hadn’t realized she had been crying until he brushed the tears away.

“Command is moving to the Capitol.” he told her. “I’m leaving in three hours.”

“No.” she refused, shaking  her head. “No.”

“I have to go, sweetheart.” he argued softly. “The kids are out there. Hayden’s out there. I will be closer, I can…”

“I am coming with you.” she cut him off.

“No.” he immediately shot her down. “You’re staying here where it’s safe.”

“I am coming to the Capitol even if I have to walk there, do you _hear_ me?” she shouted suddenly, in a very unladylike fashion. “I am _sick and tired_ of watching from the sidelines. Plutarch is allowed an assistant, I will be yours. If you leave Thirteen, I am leaving with you. End of discussion.”

“Effie.” he snapped but she didn’t let him place another word.

“I won’t be Annie.” she growled. “I won’t be Hazelle. I won’t sit here and wait for someone to come and tell me you are dead. We are not separating again. We are _not_.”

They glared at each other for a few seconds until his face softened and he sighed.

“Fine.” he grumbled. “It’s _fucking_ stupid but _fine_.”

“Fine.” she repeated. “Now hold me before I fall apart.”

“We don’t have time to fall apart now.” he told her. “We lost him but the others are still out there. They’re going to need us.”

“We have three hours and you need to let it out. So do I.” she objected. “Don’t be stubborn about this. I know you.”

He rolled his eyes to let know she was infuriating but he still lied down with her, his head on her stomach, their legs tangled. She ran her fingers through his hair with one hand and placed her other arm over her mouth to block the sound of her sobs.

She wasn’t fooling him, she suspected, but she wasn’t mentioning the wetness of her shirt under his cheek either.

This grief was something they could shoulder through together but not something they could share. It was too raw, too personal.

“I love him so much.” she mumbled at some point. She loved him like that annoying little brother who kept teasing her and making fun of her. She loved him for being kind and brave despite everything he had been through. She loved him for the selfless and pure love he felt for Annie. She loved him. And she couldn’t process the thought that she would never talk to him or laugh with him or hug him.

Haymitch didn’t answer but he buried his face in her stomach.

He was breaking at the seams and holding together by miraculous force of will only.

Who else would they have to mourn before this whole thing was over? Hayden? Katniss? Peeta? Not knowing if his brother was alive or dead, not knowing if the children were alright… There was only so much they could take. It was too much for Haymitch who had always done everything to keep his family safe.

She wondered if he would still be sane at the end of this war.

She wondered if any of them would.


	104. Chapter 104

Effie was slumped on a chair in Tactic’s tent, staring gloomily at a monitor, vaguely musing that her mother would have been appalled by her slouched shoulders and the perpetual scowl glued to her face. The soldier assigned to making sure she remained where she was shuffled awkwardly on his feet but she paid it no mind. She was watching the live feed from the camera pointing at the Presidential Mansion and wishing the quality was better.

She could see the pack of children massed on the front lawn. She could see the Capitol refugees desperately surging toward the City Circle, hoping to find help there. There were too many people and the camera was too far for her to actually study the faces.

She kept watching the children and wondering.

Behind her, Haymitch barked orders and counter-orders, bent over a three-dimensional map that kept refreshing by itself. In the city, it was pure chaos. Capitols were being slaughtered by pods, rebel soldiers, and their own Peacekeepers. It wasn’t war anymore, it was anarchy.

It was unbearable for her to turn her head and check what was happening on the other monitors.

“Effie, where does that street leads to?” Haymitch asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.

She rose to check the map, dutifully followed by her new puppy guard. After they had realized Snow was using children as a human shield, she had requested to go there in hope she would find Safia.

She had been denied.

She had insisted and Haymitch had shot her down very rudely, reminding her she was there to _help_ him and _not_ to make his life more difficult. So, she had done the only thing she could think of, focused only on the thought of her niece, frightened and alone: she had sneaked out.

Command and its different tents had settled on the outskirt of the city, she knew the Capitol by heart and she was willing to risk being blown up to smithereens if that meant her niece wouldn’t have to be alone anymore – besides, the immediate surroundings of Command had been cleared. She had only been two streets away when she had been arrested by a rebel squad and dragged back to Command. Coin’s lecture hadn’t been directed at her but at Haymitch and Haymitch’s subsequent rebukes had escalated into the worst fight they probably had to date.

He had assigned her a guard. _A guard_. Because he couldn’t _trust_ her to be _clever_.

She was still annoyed about that.

She gave him the information he wanted and watched him work. The soldiers liked him, she thought, they _respected_ him.

“Haymitch.” Beetee called, rolling his wheelchair inside the tent and directly to one of the computers. He had been holed up in Special Defense with Coin and Plutarch almost ever since they had gotten there. For whatever reason, they didn’t seem to want Haymitch there. “Facial recognition got something. We have a visual on Hayden.” Both Haymitch and Effie hurried to Three’s victor whose fingers were flying over the keyboard. Soon, the picture of a crowded street came up. It was impossible to see anything in detail. “Here.” Beetee said, pointing to a purple cloak. “The computer picked him up when he turned his head to the camera. It’s definitely him.”

Beetee zoomed in but the image lost in quality. The hood was hanging low on the man’s head and there was no telling for sure but the way he held himself... It _was_ Hayden and Effie breathed a sigh of relief. She found Haymitch’s hand and squeezed. He squeezed back, and cleared his throat, too relieved for words.

“Can you try to find the others?” Haymitch asked.

“Assuming they’re in the same zone, I can try.” Beetee shrugged. “But there’s a lot of action around there. I think they’re heading to the City Circle.”

Effie glimpsed the other monitor, the one with the children, and she closed her hand into a fist until her nails dug painfully into her palm.

Haymitch clicked his tongue once in frustration, rubbed his neck and then turned to the closest soldier. “Tell Coin to send reinforcements to that area. Make sure the squads know Katniss Everdeen might be there.”

“Yes, sir.” the soldier nodded and then hesitated. “Sir, is she going to take out President Snow?”

If anything, Haymitch looked even more sullen. “I guess that’s the plan, yeah.”

Five minutes later, they spotted Gale. Hayden was hot on his trail, obviously struggling to keep him in his line of sight. And next to Gale...

“She’s alive.” Effie breathed out, pressing a hand against her chest. She closed her eyes briefly but not for long, scared she wouldn’t be able to find Katniss again in the crowd.

Haymitch kept giving orders, never quite taking his eyes away from the screen. It was difficult to keep track of them but Beetee was doing a good job at working the cameras network. Sometimes they lost them because cameras weren’t working or had been blown up and they had to check several angles before they managed to find them again.

“Where is Peeta?” she asked at some point. She had been scanning the blurry faces, desperate to catch sight of blond hair and strong shoulders but...

“I don’t think he’s there.” Beetee replied distractedly.

As to what _that_ meant… She wouldn’t let herself think about it now. Later. When everything was over. When…

There were several near misses. Overzealous Peacekeepers, hurried rebels... Effie kept her hands clasped together and pressed them to her mouth, watching the colorful blobs on the screen barely escaping with their lives. Eventually, Hayden fell behind and was separated from the teenagers.

“ _Fuck_!” Haymitch cursed.

“I can’t keep track of both.” Beetee warned. “Who are we...”

“Katniss.” Effie answered without leaving room for Haymitch to hesitate. He would be torn about it and there was _no_ choice to make, really. They had to trust Hayden could handle himself. Three’s victor looked to Haymitch for confirmation but he only nodded his assent. For a second, it felt like they were back in the Games: the mentor and the escort, making the difficult choices.

At some point, a pod detonated and they lost the feed. It took _forever_ to find another one. Katniss was alone then. No sight of Gale.

Haymitch kept a constant stream of “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”. She didn’t have it in her to correct his language.

Katniss arrived at the Circle at the same time the rebels started pouring in. And then...

She couldn’t really tell what happened _then_.

An hovercraft appeared above the crowd and silver parachutes dropped down, so similar to the sponsoring gifts from the Hunger Games that Effie wondered if they were one and the same. Everyone knew what those parachutes meant: help, relief, _a fighting chance._ The children eagerly reached out, picked them up, fought over them...

“Haymitch...” she warned, her stomach churning with dread.

She didn’t have time to say more than that.

Half of them detonated.

The scream was deafening.

She didn’t realize it had been hers until she felt how raw her throat was and Haymitch’s hand on her shoulder.

“We don’t know Safia’s there.” he said. “ _We don’t know,_ Effie.”

They might not know but the children were dead all the same. Some had died immediately, some were in agony, writhing on the ground, missing a limb or two, others were staggering around, still clutching the parachutes...

All those children...

People in white swept in.

She recognized the uniforms because...

“Oh, _shit_!” Beetee spat, suddenly jerking his wheelchair back and leaving them there, stunned, to roll himself to what Effie supposed to be Special Defense.

“Oh, no, she _didn’t_...” Haymitch spat, calling out to one of the soldiers buzzing around. “Which medic team is this?”

Effie watched, almost detached, as the medics started taking care of the children.

“Haymitch.” she heard herself say in a calm voice. “Haymitch, it’s a trap.”

Of course, it was. She could see it so _clearly_... She had been watching Games for decades, she had been working with her victors for ten long years... She knew more about strategy, cruelty and evil ploys than she had ever wanted to.

“Medical team Ninety-eight.” someone finally answered Haymitch.

_Prim_...

“Tell them to retreat.” he immediately snapped. “ _Retreat_!”

Effie closed her eyes.

It was a mercy.

She missed the second explosion.


	105. Chapter 105

Haymitch hurried along the corridors of the Presidential Mansion, Effie hot on his heels, cursing this damned place for being so big. The official surrender had come right after the bombs had gone off in the City Circle. They hadn’t been able to access the zone at once though.

He had had plenty of time to inform Aster – who had been with another mobile medic unit – that her youngest daughter was dead and her eldest had been transferred to the Presidential Mansion hospital in a critical state but that neither he nor she could go right now.

Peeta and Cressida had found a rebel squad and had been evacuated to the Mansion – the safest place in the city right now – they were both shaken and sporting minor injuries but otherwise fine. It had taken longer to find Hayden, longer still to have him transferred from the swarmed makeshift medical center he had been sent to with other rebel soldiers to the Mansion’s hospital with the rest of the VIPs.

He had sent news to his mother that his brother was fine. He hoped he hadn’t spoken too soon.

They finally found the hospital and he had to show his ID at least a hundred times. A few hours after the surrender and, already, it seemed Thirteen’s ways had extended to the whole of Panem. It was all about following the rebels’ instructions and rules. He glanced at Effie as they progressed toward Hayden’s room. She hadn’t spoken a word since the second explosion. She hadn’t wanted to be there when he had talked to Aster either.

He forced himself not to think about that right now, Beetee’s words were too fresh in his mind. _It was my weapon, Gale’s idea, Haymitch... The hummingbirds_... _It wasn’t supposed to be used like this. It wasn’t..._

When they entered the room, Hayden was sitting on his bed, still wearing his battered track pants and boots but otherwise shirtless. There was a large bandage circling around his torso. His brother’s eyes lighted up when he saw them and he bolted to his feet, already raising his hands in a reassuring gesture.

“It’s just a few cracked ribs.” he said. “Nothing to worry about. They’re letting me out tonight.”

Effie was quicker than Haymitch and she sneaked past him to embrace his brother. She was mindful of his injuries, he could see, but she was trembling so much Hayden’s happy face at seeing them morphed into a frown. He held her tight, seeking Haymitch’s eyes.

“Prim’s dead.” he told his brother straight out. “Lots of kids died in front of the Mansion. It’s possible her niece was one of them.”

A few of them had survived, some were critically injured, others had been lucky... But it would take time to organize everything and identify them.

Hayden cradled the back of her head in his hand, his shoulders sagging. “How Prim... She wasn’t... _How?_ ”

“Long story.” he replied and, before his brother could start complaining about him hiding things, Haymitch added. “For later.”

“What he doesn’t want to say...” Effie hissed, her voice laced with venom. “…is that he isn’t sure who bombed the children and killed Prim. Or, rather, he _is_ sure.”

Hayden wasn’t stupid. He quickly did the math. His eyes widened and he held Effie tighter as if by reflex. She was still trembling, obviously in shock.

“There are bugs everywhere in this place.” Hayden chided her.

“Yeah. Exactly.” Haymitch snapped. “We will talk about that _later_.”

Effie chuckled bitterly. “And what will we do when that woman launches a brand new batch of Hunger Games with Capitol citizens?” Haymitch lowered his eyes and Hayden’s quiet attempt at shushing her didn’t go well. She stepped away from him, staring at them in turn with hollow eyes. “ _Please_.” she scoffed. “You know that’s coming. We know her kind, don’t we? Perhaps you two can be my mentors when she decides to send all of us Capitols into an arena.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Haymitch growled. “Nobody is sending you anywhere.”

She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head, looking both vulnerable and distressed.

“You were always good at lying.” she commented.

Hayden’s eyes darted from him to their escort. “I think you’re exhausted, Effie.”

“Yes, I am.” she whispered and, somehow, Haymitch didn’t think she was talking about her lack of sleep.

“I need to go check on Katniss.” he declared. “That won’t be a pretty sight. Maybe you should stay here with Hayden and...”

“I am coming.” Effie cut him off. “Her mother isn’t allowed in yet. I should be there.”

He knew better than to argue.

He still hugged his brother tightly before leaving, more relieved than he could have said to have him safe and sound by his side.

In the end, they were barely allowed a glimpse of Katniss. It was enough to make his stomach churn and Effie’s hurried excuse that she needed to use the restroom made him think he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stand the sight.

_Burned alive_.

Her skin was torn, the flesh was exposed, tendons and sinews... They kept her in a sterilized tank, letting her float in some sort of liquid. The doctor patiently explained everything, talking about her lungs and, later on, about the necessity of skin grafts but Haymitch didn’t register much. All he really understood was that nothing was fixed yet and she could still die. The doctor patted his shoulder and told him she was a fighter, which was good.

He still wanted to throw up.

Effie was waiting for him down the hall.

“Gale is in that room.” she informed him, pointing to a door on the left.

He checked on the kid but it was more for Hazelle’s sake than out of any personal interest. The boy rubbed him off the wrong way.

Peeta wasn’t in the hospital. He had been cleared by medics and been allotted a room in the main part of the Mansion. It was more of an upgraded cell since there were still guards at the door but, at least, the boy acted more like himself.

Again, Effie was quicker and she hugged him before anyone could say anything. After five minutes and no sign of her being ready to let him go, Peeta winced, silently begging Haymitch for help.

“Alright, sweetheart.” he snorted. “Don’t strangle the kid yet. We’ve got a shortage of hospital rooms.”

“Don’t joke about that!” she rebuked him, finally letting go of the boy to swat his arm.

Peeta laughed though, obviously in better spirits. It didn’t last very long. “I heard about Prim. How is Katniss? And their mother?”

They spent a long time catching up, trying to help when Peeta’s memories failed him now and then, but they eventually left the boy to rest.

“I want to go look for Safia.” Effie said, as soon as they were back in the corridor.

“There’s no point right now.” Haymitch sighed, trying to be patient. “They won’t bother with identifying the kids until they’re done handling emergencies. I’ve got people looking. If her name pops up, they will tell us.”

Effie wasn’t satisfied with that. She pursed her lips and tilted her head, her eyes bright with exhaustion and tears. “Perhaps you were right and she wasn’t there at all. If Rufus hid her... He might have entrusted her to one of his friends or... Or neighbors... We need to check their house and my parents’ and maybe our apartment too.” 

He had long stopped arguing about that ‘ _ours’_.

“We _can’t_ go wandering around the city yet. It’s not safe.” he reminded her.

She closed her eyes and licked her lips. “Haymitch, I _need_ to search for her. I cannot just give up. Would you if it was Hayden’s child?”

No, he wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t have let anyone or anything stop him either.

“There’s no point trying to convince you to stay here where it’s safe while I go looking, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer. She simply lifted her eyebrows and he rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_. But we’re not being careless about this, you hear me? If one of the places you want to check is in a zone that hasn’t been cleared, we don’t go.”

She nodded her agreement.

When he asked for a squad to accompany them, Plutarch granted the request with a sad smile and wished them good luck. The soldiers were understanding and didn’t seem too put off by Effie’s insistence that they go quicker.

They checked her parents’ house first because it was the closest to the Center.

Where the street had once stood, there was now a pit in the ground.

He didn’t ask if she was alright.

He had a feeling she was at the end of her rope and hanging on by a thread.

Her sister’s house was intact but had been ransacked at some point. The front door was off its hinges, the windows were all blown in... They waited outside until the soldiers confirmed it was safe to go in.

Effie searched every single room.

He didn’t know what she expected to find. The girl hiding under the grand piano in the living-room or in the cupboard in the corridor? Clues? She opened every door, upturned every corner of the house and, in the end, sat down heavily on Safia’s bed.

When she had said the girl loved pink, she hadn’t been kidding.

Her room looked like a candy box. Pink walls, pink curtains, a bed too big for such a small child with a huge pink canopy... There were toys everywhere and a big walk-in closet full of clothes. A soldier reported the neighbors were gone and the few who were left had not seen the kid since her parents had been executed. Wordlessly, Effie started picking outfits from the closet and folding them on the bed before carefully selecting stuffed animals and dolls from the shelves and toy boxes. She filled three suitcases.

Haymitch didn’t quite know what to say so he simply grabbed the suitcases and carried them back to the rebels’ truck. She stopped in her sister’s room, wrinkled her nose when she realized the jewelry box laid empty, and grabbed as many of the framed pictures as she could carry.

Stopping by Effie’s apartment was useless and they both knew it but they did it anyway.

He thought she _needed_ to.

It had been thoroughly trashed and ransacked – probably by Peacekeepers and looters alike. Her walk-in closet was upside down, dresses torn in two, most of them on the floor... She saved what she could and packed a suitcase.

A good amount of his own clothes were at her place, they had piled up over the years, he added some of them to her case, sick and tired of wearing that uniform all the time. It identified him as one of Coin’s men and he _wasn’t_ one of Coin’s men.

Her lips remained pursed tight all the while she dug in the heap of broken baubles and upturned shelves. He was scared she would hurt herself but she was careful and determined to retrieve all the photo albums she could find. She didn’t want to risk someone coming in and destroying them.

It was the middle of the night by the time they came back to the Mansion. They were informed Aster had finally been granted admittance. There wasn’t anything else to do for now. He checked in with Command but Plutarch told him to go to bed, that he was handling things.

Haymitch still remembered Beetee’s distressed face and the accusation almost flew out of his mouth right there but he swallowed it back down. There would be a time and place to do this and it wasn’t now.

He and Effie had been assigned separate rooms. He scoffed at that.

There was an eerie feel to the Presidential Mansion. As if it had been left untouched by the war. Everything was clean, ordered, decorated with taste – unlike most Capitol places.

Their room was more of a suite with a small sitting-room, a bedroom and an en-suite bathroom. Everything felt huge after the small compartment the four of them had shared. The bathroom looked particularly disproportionate with its big bathtub and the wide shower that could have easily fitted three people standing side to side.

Effie glanced at the bathtub with longing but probably decided she was too tired because she stripped right there, dumped the dirty clothes in the hamper, and stepped in the shower, hitting a few keys on the control panel until the hot stream of water poured down on her head, smelling strongly of fresh flowers.

He was slower in peeling the uniform from his skin, so tired he was aching right up to his bones. He joined her under the water and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her to his chest so he could drop a kiss on her shoulder.

“Do you think she’s dead?” she asked, her voice rough.

He let out a long breath. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“You have an opinion, you always do.” she snapped. “Stop coddling me. Do you think she is dead?”

He hesitated long enough for her to hear what he wasn’t willing to say. He said it anyway because he felt he owed it to her. “I hope not but the odds aren’t good.”

He was afraid she would break down and start crying. She simply nodded, sniffed once, and jutted her chin high in the air. Respecting her silence, he grabbed the bottle of shower gel and started the long process of getting the grime off their bodies. They remained in the shower long after they were clean, savoring the feeling of an unrestricted amount of hot water raining down on their skin.

Eventually, they stumbled to the bed and slipped between the sheets still naked and too tired to care. Haymitch was out in a matter of seconds.

He woke up the next morning because of the harsh sunlight pouring through the window. He blinked the sleep away, grateful for the notable absence of nightmares, and nuzzled Effie’s nape. There were worse ways to wake up than spooning her, naked skins pressed tight together, warm from the night. She hummed and burrowed back into him.

“Keep rubbing your ass against me like that and we won’t get out of bed anytime soon.” he snorted. His arm had been tossed casually around her waist, he moved his hand up her stomach and found a breast.

“I’m sleeping.” she lied.

“Sleep then.” he humored her, lowering his mouth to her neck so he could nibble on the soft flesh, all the while toying with a quickly hardening nipple.

They hadn’t had sex since the Quell. In Thirteen... There had been her various injuries, the lack of time, the exhaustion, the impossibility to have five minutes to themselves...

He had missed her.

He _needed_ her.

He nudged her to her back, his hand ghosting over her side, eliciting a few giggles when he found the exact spot she was the most ticklish. She finally opened her eyes and a soft smile graced her lips. It wasn’t as carefree and happy as it had once been but it was peaceful enough that he didn’t stop touching her.

Her body was the same but different.

She was thinner, he could count the bones of her ribcage and her hip bones were jutting out. There were faint lines here and there on her skin, pale but still visible. The biggest one was on her left side, a little under her breast. He was so caught up in his inventory that he missed the insecure way she was biting on her bottom lip.

“I am not exactly desirable anymore, am I?” she snorted.

“You’re beautiful.” he told her and he _meant_ it too. He pressed a lingering kiss to the scar on her side and moved his way up, intending to make her forget all the bad memories.

They had been together for so long they knew each other by heart. It wasn’t a bad thing. Not in his opinion anyway. He knew for a fact he would never get bored of her, would never get tired of coaxing those small whimpers and whines out of her mouth. He spent a long time making sure she was ready, wanting this to be as enjoyable as possible for both of them – it had been months and it was also long overdue.

“Tell me.” she moaned, as he was lining up their bodies to finally give in to what they both needed.

He eased himself into her slowly, locking eyes with her.

“I love you.” he said softly.

The words were still difficult to utter and they still filled him with dread but if she needed them he would say them. All the time she had been missing he had regretted not telling her before.

“I love you.” she mumbled back, urging him to move by pushing on his lower back.

He delivered.

He didn’t know how soundproof those suites were but he hoped his brother hadn’t been assigned the closest one or he would have to suffer being lectured about _volume_ again. Effie was always vocal, that was something that hadn’t changed and he was happy about it.

The afterglow was less enjoyable than he would have liked.

Haymitch wanted to check on what was going on in Command and Effie wanted to check on the children. She kissed him one last time before leaving their room – a lingering kiss that made him look forward to the next time they would manage to be alone together – and sauntered on to visit Peeta.

There was no shortage of things to do in Command – now occupying the war room in the Mansion, Coin already having claimed Snow’s office as her own. Hours passed without him really noticing the time but when Hayden showed up at the door, closely followed by Gale, out of breath and clutching his ribs with a wince of pain, he knew the day wouldn’t turn out to be as good as he had hoped.

“They arrested her.” his brother panted. “They arrested Effie.”


	106. Chapter 106

As she walked back to where Aster was waiting, carefully balancing a plastic cup of coffee in each hand, Effie felt more focused than she had in weeks. It was probably a little stupid but the regular clicking sounds of her heels made her feel powerful and she was glad she had had the foresight of filling a suitcase the day before. Her old dress didn’t fit as well as it used to but she was relieved to be out of the grey pants and shirts anyway. Even the small touches of make-up she had dared use on her face despite the rebels certain disapproval made her feel more grounded, like the woman she used to be.

She was Effie Trinket, she was in charge and she had everything under control.

If only that were true...

“Thank you.” Aster sighed absently, relieving her of one of the cups, never taking her eyes away from her daughter.

They weren’t allowed _inside_ the room. All they could do was watch from behind a plastic window. The sight wasn’t prettier than it had been the previous day and the doctors still hadn’t declared that the girl was out of the woods.

She had checked on Peeta that morning. The boy, at least, was doing as well as expected. He was closely monitored but looked ready to work with all the specialists the rebels could provide.

“Katniss will be alright.” Effie said, briefly squeezing Aster’s shoulder and trying not to resent her flinching. She was the escort who had reaped her daughters. It was only natural the woman would hate her. She sipped her coffee in silence after that and, when it grew cold, she tossed Aster’s untouched one in the bin.

She was considering ways to force the woman to eat something when heavy and hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. When she saw it was Hayden and Gale, she met them halfway. The boy’s gaze remained fixed on Mrs Everdeen, guilt and sorrow flashing on his face, but Hayden grabbed both of her arms with one of the biggest smiles she had ever seen on him.

“I have a surprise for you.” he said.

She blinked, completely flabbergasted and perhaps a little apprehensive. She wasn’t such a big fan of surprises anymore. “What is it?”

“They have started the identification process of people who were in the City Circle attack. They started with the kids still alive.” Hayden’s words were rushing out of his mouth. “Gale was looking because...” His face grew somber for a second and he waved the end of that sentence away, reaching out to squeeze the young man’s shoulder. Gale looked uneasy and maybe even angry but what really struck Effie was the _pain_. “It doesn’t matter. The name of your niece is there.” There was a rush of blood to her head and she swayed a little. Hayden immediately steadied her, his smile coming back. “We can go get her _right now_. She’s been transferred to one of the emergency shelters. If she’s even injured at all, it can’t be too bad if they sent her there.”

“She’s alive?” she breathed out, tears blurring her sight.

She could barely believe it.

“Yes.” Hayden’s laughter was joyful and a touch hysterical, as if he had needed this as much as she had, as if something had to compensate for the horrors of the last few days. “She’s alive, Effie! She’s alive!”

She hugged him or he hugged her, it didn’t matter. Suddenly, she was laughing too and repeating _thank you, thank you_ , not really sure who she was thanking. Gale was treated to a hug too, even though he remained stiff and rather uncertain in her arms. She framed his face in her hands, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate it but needing to show her gratitude.

“I mean it.” she insisted. “I know you don’t like me and you have done more than anyone could have expected of you twice for me already. _Thank you_.”

Gale shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “I don’t like you but you’re kind of family now.” He shot Hayden a dark look. “Your fault.”

“Can we go _now_?” she asked. “Can you take me?”

The idea of warning Haymitch crossed her mind but she was too impatient to go all the way to the new Command outpost. She needed to find Safia, she needed to hold her _now_... She needed to make sure she could repair at least one of the wrongs she had done her sister.

“Sure.” Hayden shrugged before turning to Gale and lowering his voice. “You’re coming or you want to stay with Katniss?”

The young man licked his lips, his eyes resting once again on Aster Everdeen with obvious guilt. He was still sporting the injuries from the final battle. He had some scrapes on his face and he was favoring one side to the other.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hayden.” he answered. “Might as well come with you. It’s not exactly safe out there yet.”

It could still have been a war zone and she would have gone anyway if it meant finally finding her niece. They made it as far as the main entrance before a group of soldiers headed in their direction. There were four of them and she recognized the one in charge because he had been working with Haymitch in the Tactic tent during the Capitol assault. They stopped in front of them and greeted them all with a nod.

“Miss Trinket.” the soldier said.

“Soldier Grant.” she remembered just in time. “Is Haymitch sending you? Are you here to escort us?”

Perhaps Haymitch had found out about Safia already and was unwilling to let her and his brother venture outside unprotected. That would be _just_ like him to send a squad.

“Escort you...” the soldier repeated with a wince. “No, I’m sorry, Miss Trinket. Truly, I _am_. I’m here to arrest you.”

“What?” Hayden frowned, immediately stepping closer.

“I’m sorry.” the soldier repeated, fishing a paper out of his pocket and handing it to Hayden. “Here is the warrant. She is wanted for murder by association, crimes against humanity, crimes against Panem and oppression.” Grant shook his head. “Everyone having taken part in the Games are being arrested.”

“Think again.” Hayden growled, pushing her behind him. “She’s _with_ _us_. She’s part of this rebellion. She’s...”

“Believe me, I don’t enjoy doing this.” Soldier Grant gritted his teeth. “Please, let’s not do this the hard way. Miss Trinket, you’re under arrest. You will be notified about the date of your trial as soon as it’s fixed, you‘re allowed a legal representation and...”

“This is ridiculous, you realize?” Hayden hissed. “There’s been a mistake.”

“There is no mistake.” Grant retorted.

“She’s an escort.” Gale pointed out. “If they’re arresting escorts...”

“You are not helping.” Hayden retorted. “I’m not letting you arrest her. You want her, you go through me. It’s...”

“Idiotic.” Effie completed softly, completely stunned. _Being_ _arrested_ , _prison_... Her hands started shaking but she balled them into fists. She couldn’t lose it now, _not_ _yet_. “You won’t stop them from arresting me, there is an army of them and only one of you. I... If this is a misunderstanding, Haymitch will clear it and if it’s not... If it’s not you need to find Safia, you need to take care of her. You and Haymitch. I am her legal guardian now if anything happens to me, I want you and Haymitch to take her in.” She looked around, blinking quickly because her sight was tunneling. _You are under arrest..._ _A cell, she was going back to a cell... Dark and damp and cold..._ “I... There are witnesses, is that enough or...”

“I’m sure it’s enough.” Soldier Grant answered, not without compassion. “We need to cuff you. I’m sorry, it’s procedure.”

“It’s ridiculous.” Hayden repeated, trying to step between them again but Gale held him back, repeating several times that it wouldn’t accomplish anything to get arrested too.

The soldier who placed the handcuffs on her wasn’t as nice as Soldier Grant. Her hands tied behind her back, she was led away by a forceful grip on her arm. Her shoulder ached.

“I will get you out of here!” Hayden called after her.

She didn’t answer.

She wasn’t even truly conscious of what was happening around her anymore. _Rebel soldiers... Peacekeepers..._ Everything blurred together.

She was shaking.

Eventually they stopped walking and she realized they were standing in some sort of underground facility. She immediately felt claustrophobic but nobody cared about her quick breathing or the silent tears running down her cheeks. She was left in a small room with a female soldier and told to strip. Body searches were just as humiliating as she remembered from her first arrest but it was mercifully quick this time. She was given clothes and told to change. Was it an universal thing for prisoners to wear white or were the rebels following in the Capitol footsteps?

She almost threw up out of sheer panic once she was wearing the white pants and white shirt again. _Johanna_ , she kept thinking, _Johanna will know what to do_. But Johanna wasn’t there and she wouldn’t be which was a relief. Johanna was safe. They wouldn’t go after victors.

The woman cuffed her hands again after she had changed as if she was a very dangerous criminal.

She led her down a corridor full of cells. Half of them were full already. The faces were familiar and as she passed, they seemed to gloat.

“ _Traitor_!” a woman half-spat half-chuckled as she walked past.

It took her a few seconds to recognize Viola without make-up or wig.

The woman uncuffed her once in the cell but it was a small consolation. Once she was left alone and the door slammed shut behind her, she collapsed. She curled up on the floor, made herself as small as she could and let the sobs out.

She tried to remember the feeling of Haymitch’s arms around her. She failed.

There were differences between this cell and her old one: this one had a bed, toilets and neon lamps with harsh lights. It didn’t register. It wasn’t important. She couldn’t tell where she was, if she had even ever been out at all or if the time spent in Thirteen had only been a figment of her imagination.

Terrified and shivering, she felt around for Johanna’s body and found only empty space.

She was alone.

Desperately alone.

°O°O°O°

“Haymitch, slow down!”

Haymitch completely ignored Plutarch’s order and marched on, not waiting for the former Gamemaker or his brother to catch up. The presidential office’s door was at the end of the corridor, he shoved away the guards who moved as if to stop him and who quickly stood down at Plutarch’s out of breath order.

He almost knocked the door down.

It opened so violently it bounced back against the wall and he had to catch it with his arm not to have it slammed shut in his face. He still felt some satisfaction when Coin jumped behind her desk. There was a flash of fear on her face before it disappeared behind a mask of cold efficiency.

“Soldier Abernathy, unless it is a matter of emergency, knocking isn’t an option.” she sneered.

“Now...” Plutarch heaved, stepping in the room right behind him and closing the door. “Haymitch, don’t...”

“What _the fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

He had been in Snow’s office a few times over the years, never for joyful things. The first one had been the worst. The first one he would never forget. He had stood right there, near the dark red brocade chair with golden embroideries, his eyes on the TV in the corner, on the mahogany dresser, while Mabel got her brain blown out of her skull. Everything was the same, down to the gold paperknife on the desk. And, once again, he had to fight the urge to grab it and stab the President in the neck.

“I suggest you watch your tone.” Coin replied.

“I suggest you watch yourself, Madam President.” he mocked. “I am not one of your toy soldiers and _I know what you did_.” 

“I have no clue what you mean.” Coin lied without blinking.

“Yeah? Let me remind you.” he sneered. “Operation Hummingbird.”

Coin remained calm but her eyes darted to Plutarch, betraying her.

“Now, Haymitch, I know you are upset...” the Gamemaker said, still out of breath. At Haymitch’s glare, he lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “And rightly so! Rightly so! But I am confident this is just a misunderstanding.”

“There’s no misunderstanding.” he snapped. “You’re going to release Effie at once.”

Coin placed down the pen she had been holding and folded her hands on the desk, studying him.

“I will do no such thing.” the President declared. “Anyone having taken part in the Games will be held accountable. Your escort will get a fair trial.”

“Effie Trinket has immunity.” Plutarch cut in before Haymitch could talk, wiping his brow not so subtly. What he was thinking was obvious. If Effie had been arrested, he could very well be next.

“Her request for immunity had never been granted.” Coin corrected. “Unlike you, she only had political refugee status. She will be held accountable.”

“No, she won’t.” Haymitch growled, his heart in his throat. “She won’t if you don’t want to make an enemy of me, the Mockingjay, and the rest of the victors.”

“Do not threaten me, Abernathy.” she warned. “Your escort...”

“ _Stop_ calling her _that_.” he snarled. “She’s not my escort, she’s my _wife_ and I _will_ cut you to _pieces_ if you touch her.”

There was a long silence.

Plutarch wiped his brow again. “Haymitch...”

But Haymitch wasn’t done. He knew how this would play out: mockery of trials, death sentences, executions... He wouldn’t watch the woman he loved being murdered again. _He_ _wouldn’t_. And the mere idea of her in a cell... She was still fighting the nightmares, the fear... She couldn’t bear to be in a room if all the lights were off. She couldn’t sleep _alone_. She would be panicked right now, terrified. And the thought of it made him want to hurl things across the room.

“You won’t win this.” he warned Coin. “I was a key player in this rebellion, you can’t silence me without raising suspicion. I will go to every media outlet in this country. I will talk to every rebel leader. I will tell everyone what sort of monster you are. Do you think people will take kindly to a victor’s wife being executed? After _all this_? All _we_ ’ve been through? _We_ ’re still people’s heroes, not _you_.”

He wanted to press about the bombing of the children but he swallowed it back. That was dangerous. She would kill him for that secret, no matter the consequences. There were too many ways to make it look like an accident.

Coin’s milky eyes were riveted on him, calculating.

“ _Release her._ ” he commanded.

Plutarch was sweating, switching his weight from one foot to the other. “Alma, this is....”

“I wasn’t aware you were married, Haymitch.” Coin said, completely ignoring the Head Gamemaker. “Or is this a figure of speech? Because if you are _not_ actually married to her, this is just a man throwing a tantrum because his lover is facing justice.”

He should have put a ring on her finger years earlier.

“We’re married.” he lied. “We had a private toasting.”

“A toasting, as charming a tradition as it is, isn’t legally binding.” the President retorted.

“It is in Twelve.” he retorted. “District people will respect it.”

She didn’t blink, she didn’t let anything slip past her mask. “There were no witnesses to this alleged wedding, I presume?”

“My brother.” he said at once, without even pausing to think. Hayden would lie for him. Hayden would protect Effie.

Her eyes turned to Plutarch. “Have a soldier locate Hayden Abernathy and bring him here. _You_ have to have no contact with him before I interrogate him.”

“No need, he is right in front of the door.” Plutarch sighed, calling Hayden in quietly.

Hayden looked furious, worried and confused as to what he was doing there.

“Soldier Abernathy, what is, to the best of your knowledge, the status of the relationship between your brother and your escort?” Coin asked without bothering with any greetings.

“What does it have to do with anything?” Hayden scoffed, looking from the woman to Haymitch. “Effie is a good person. She doesn’t deserve...”

“We are not here to stand trial on Effie Trinket. That will come soon enough.” Coin cut him off. “I am asking you what sort of relationship your brother and your escort share.”

Hayden frowned and looked at Haymitch who remained still, didn’t move, didn’t give Coin any ammunition to fuel her suspicions... His eyes said it all though. He silently begged Hayden to understand what he wanted, begged him to think like his brother knew he could think, begged him to grasp the danger, work out what would be best for Effie...

“Soldier Abernathy.” Coin insisted with a touch of triumph.

Certain her attention was now on his brother, Haymitch made his move. His ring finger twitched. It was nothing and it wouldn’t probably have meant anything to someone else but Hayden was his brother and Hayden knew how to read him.

“Married.” Hayden replied at last, turning his eyes from Haymitch to the President. “They had a toasting.”

“When was this?” Coin glared, almost seething with fury.

“A year and a half ago, in Twelve, on the last night of the Victory Tour.” Hayden replied confidently. “I was Haymitch’s witness. Portia was Effie’s.”

“How convenient that she is dead and can’t corroborate.” the President sneered.

“Release Effie.” Haymitch ordered once again. “Or you will get a shit storm on your hands. I will challenge you. I will challenge you at every turn and I won’t be alone. You _don’t_ want me as your enemy.”

Coin narrowed her eyes but grabbed her pen and bent back over her papers, not giving them another glance. “I will give the matter consideration. Now get out of my office, I have actual state problems to deal with.”

Haymitch opened his mouth but Plutarch’s grip on his arm was firm and he dragged him away silently warning him not to push his luck.

“Was the guns blazing method absolutely necessary?” the Gamemaker hissed as soon as they were all out of the office. “You’re smarter than this, Haymitch. Threatening her...”

Haymitch ignored him, barely noticing Gale who had been leaning against the wall and who stood up straighter when they appeared. He turned to Hayden, running a hand in his hair, trying to _think_. “Get Mama, Jo, Annie, Hazelle and the kids out of Thirteen and back here. I want them where I can see them. And when you’re _sure_ they’re on a hovercraft, stick close to Katniss.” He glanced at Gale. “You keep an eye on Peeta and... You’ve got friends with the rebels... Try to find out where they sent Effie. If they won’t release her...”

“We’re breaking her out.” Hayden finished, deadly serious. “We should wait for Jo for that.”

Haymitch nodded his approval.

“Nobody is breaking anybody out.” Plutarch frowned. “Let me work on Coin. I will convince her.”

“You do that.” Haymitch sneered. “But if she’s not willing to...”

“Haymitch, do you hear yourself?” the Gamemaker snapped. “What do you want? Another rebellion? The blood isn’t dry in the streets yet. Calm down. Let me work. I will get her released.”

He glared at the Gamemaker, too scared and nervous to listen to what he knew to be the voice of reason. Panem couldn’t survive another rebellion right now.

Hayden’s hand fell on his shoulder, comforting and supporting all at once.

Gale cleared his throat. “What do we do about the kid?” 

“The kid?” Haymitch frowned.

“Safia.” Hayden sighed, rubbing his face. “I forgot about that. We found her. Effie said...” His brother swallowed. “She said that if anything happens to her you and I should take care of the girl.”

“Haymitch will go get her.” Plutarch declared.

“I...” he tried to protest.

“You are going to go fetch her niece because apparently she is _your_ niece too.” the Gamemaker snapped. “And don’t think I didn’t see right through that – smart idea though. At least while you’re busy retrieving her I’m sure you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I just want my family safe.” he growled.

“Then, go get Effie’s niece while I work out the rest.” Plutarch retorted. “I _will_ convince Coin. _Trust_ _me_.”

He had no reason to trust the Gamemaker. Not after everything that had happened.

“Come on, Haymitch.” Hayden said softly, tugging him away by the arm.

He was grateful for his brother right then because he realized with a startled jolt, once they were far away from Coin’s office, that now that the adrenaline was fading, he was ready to collapse.

He couldn’t lose her again.

He _couldn’t_.


	107. Chapter 107

Haymitch had no idea where the car was going.

His head rested against the cold glass of the window, watching the destruction they were driving past without seeing any of it. His whole mind was focused on Effie. He knew she must have been terrified and the only thing he wanted was to hold her to chase it away.

“Sir, we’re here.” the driver said uncertainly and Haymitch blinked, nodded and stepped out of the car.

The emergency shelter was in a school building. He was stopped at several checkpoints but allowed to step inside when they realized who he was. He had thought it would have been more complicated to retrieve a kid he had no real legal right on but the volunteers and medics running the shelter were so overwhelmed they seemed only too happy to point him in the right direction after a cursory glance at the papers Plutarch had signed for him.

The kids, he understood, were the real concern. They demanded more attention than the adults, they were frightened and, for some of them, injured and they were loud. He stepped inside what seemed to be the refectory and the noise assaulted him: wailing, screaming, whimpering... Some of the kids were in beds, others were sitting on the floor. They all seemed terrified out of their mind. Medics, nurses and volunteers ran around, some people were looking for their family...

One of the volunteers guided him right to the girl and left immediately after, hurrying to a little boy whose nose was bleeding.

Safia was smaller than in his memory. She was sitting on the floor, on a blanket that had probably meant to be used as a cover and not as something to sit on – but he couldn’t imagine any niece of Effie consenting to sit on a dirty floor – cross-legged, clutching a broken china doll to her chest. The face of the doll was smashed and she had obviously cut herself on it because there were small fresh red lines on her hands. She looked much like what he remembered, albeit a dirtier version: tangled blond hair, face covered with soot, snoot – and what he hoped wasn’t blood – and bright blue eyes that were entirely too full of mistrust as she eyed him from under her fringe.

He crouched in front of her slowly, not to frighten her. “Hi.” There was no response but he noticed the heavy bandage around her forearm. “Do you remember me, sweetheart?”

Her lips wobbled and she shook her head no, holding the doll even tighter. Haymitch winced when he saw how close to her face the sharp edges of the broken china were. Careful not to spook her, he reached out and gently nudged the doll down. The kid looked ready to bolt and he had no doubt she would have done just that if she hadn’t been so obviously tired, famished and scared.

“I’m a friend of your Aunt Effie. We met last year, remember?” he insisted. “You said I looked and talked funny.” She cocked her head but no spark of recognition flashed in her eyes. “Okay.” he sighed. Hayden should have come to fetch her. Hayden was better with kids. “I’m going to take you with me, sweetheart, alright?”

The kid looked around as if to search for help and then seemed resigned to have to deal with him.

“Is Aunt Effie asleep?” she whispered, so soft he had trouble hearing it over the surrounding noise.

“What?” he frowned.

“Father said Mommy was sleeping forever now.” she told him, tightening her grip on the doll and making him wish again she would keep it away from her face. “Grandmother and Grandfather too. Deana said Father is asleep too now.” 

“Who’s Deana?” he asked.

Although he had a good idea. It had always been a theory that her father had hidden her somewhere.

She gave a tiny shrug. “Father’s friend. I had to live in her house. And then we had to run. And then she fell. And then the man in white said I had to come with him to the place with all the children. And then...” Her lips wobbled. “Is Aunt Effie asleep too?”

_Dead_ , she meant _dead_.

“No, sweetheart. _No_.” he promised. “She’s very busy right now but she really wanted to come and get you. She was really worried about you. You’ll see her soon. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She didn’t move and when he reached to pick her up, she crawled back a little so he froze and dropped his arms. He _really_ should have let Hayden take care of this.

“Come on, sweetheart.” he almost pleaded. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anybody else hurt you. You’re safe now.” She didn’t look convinced and, with a sigh, he sat down on the floor in front of her. The crouching was starting to hurt his knees. “Okay. We can wait for a bit.”

The kid picked on a loose thread of her battered dress. She wasn’t looking directly at him, watching him from under the cover of her hair.

“What’s your name?” she asked. “You didn’t introduce yourself. It’s rude.”

Despite everything, that made him chuckle. “Haymitch.”

“My name’s Safia.” she mumbled. “How do you do?”

It was such a mechanical response he couldn’t help a bitter smirk. Effie hadn’t been kidding when she had said her family had been grooming her to be a perfect lady. He didn’t know a lot of little girls who would word that in that way at her age.

“Not so good.” he shrugged. “Everything was a bit scary for a while, yeah?” She nodded slowly. “What happened to your arm, sweetheart?”

She ducked her head even more and rocked a little. He was reminded of Annie.

“There were funny things dropping from the sky.” she explained. “They were shiny. I didn’t catch one.” Which was probably lucky or she would have been in several pieces now. “I flied like a bird.”

“Flew.” he corrected automatically. She had probably been projected by the shockwave. She had been lucky, he mused, probably at the very edge of the crowd of children, far away from the main explosions.

“Flew.” she repeated dutifully, holding out her arm to show him the bandage. It wasn’t as clean as he would have liked. “Then I don’t remember.”

“Does it hurt?” he worried, reaching out. She didn’t withdraw this time so he cradled her arm in his hands to have a look. He would take her straight to the Mansion’s hospital, he decided. First thing. She needed a complete check up.

“I want Aunt Effie.” she whispered. “Can she come?”

“Not right now, sweetheart. But she will be back soon. I promise.” He added the last part in a defiant tone as a challenge to fate. Her eyes fell on the golden bangle around his wrist and she hooked a finger around it. “You like it?” She nodded so he slipped it off and handed it to her. “Don’t lose it or Aunt Effie will scold me to hell and back.” That earned him a small smile. She put the doll down to slip it around her tiny uninjured wrist. It was too big, of course, but she held it in place with her other hand. Haymitch found himself brushing her tangled hair away from her face, an odd fondness tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t really know the kid but she looked too much like Effie. It was breaking his heart. “We need to go now. That’s okay with you?”

She grabbed her doll and nodded. He wanted to argue against bringing the doll but thought it was better to wait until they were back in the Mansion to convince her to throw it away. Effie had packed clothes and toys and he was glad for that foresight.

She winced a little when he picked her up so he tried to be careful, minding her small bruised body. He thought she would feel better once they would be out of the shelter and its overwhelming misery but once they stepped outside, she buried her face in his neck, held on to the doll and closed her eyes tight.

He sat with her in the back of the rebel car, trying not to notice she always kept a hold on his shirt as if she was afraid he would suddenly disappear and abandon her in the middle of nowhere. He probed a little and pieced together what had happened to her. Rufus had come home one day while she was with the nanny, had grabbed her and had dropped her at a friend of his where she had stayed for what he figured to be most of the war – she couldn’t say for certain – then the battle had reached the house of the friend, they had been forced to flee and had erred in the street looking for a safe place when Deanna had been killed – Safia insisted she had just fallen but Haymitch wasn’t confident – a Peacekeeper had stopped the little girl and had taken her to where the other kids and refugees were kept, probably thinking he was protecting her. The rest, as they said, was history.

He hadn’t thought about the fact the bombing had happened in the City Circle, right in front of the Mansion. When she saw where they were headed, her eyes opened wide and she started shaking. She didn’t calm down until he had her in his arms and she could hide her face in his shirt. Haymitch was totally out of his depth.

He took her straight to the hospital, already wondering how he was going to work around having to look after her. He needed to find someone who could stay with the kid while he checked on Effie. If Plutarch hadn’t convinced Coin to release her yet, maybe he could at least secure a right for him to visit...

Safia didn’t look very happy to be poked and probed by a doctor but they, at least, were nice despite their blatant disapproval in regard to Haymitch’s lack of attention. She sat still all the time they cleaned the burn on her arm and changed the bandage, maybe too exhausted to make a fuss or pacified by the lollipop one of the nurses had handed her. She had other minor injuries: small cuts and ugly bruises that the doctor checked thoroughly. When she asked the nurse if she could heal her doll it almost broke his heart.

Fortunately he was distracted by Hayden’s timely arrival.

“Hey.” his brother greeted him, an arm wrapped around his torso. “Plutarch is still working on Coin, no news on Effie for now. Gale’s gone to meet the hovercraft, he will bring them back to the Mansion. I checked on Katniss and Peeta. Nothing new with Katniss and Peeta is doing okay. How did it go for you?”

Haymitch stepped aside so he could get a clear view of the girl, frowning as he studied Hayden. “You’re overdoing it. Mind those ribs.” Safia had ducked her head again, peering at Hayden warily from under her fringe.  “Sweetheart, that’s a friend of your aunt and he’s also my brother. He’s really nice. He’s going to stay with you while I go check on...”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence, she latched out and grabbed his sleeve with her good hand, shaking her head with big blue pleading eyes full of tears. In the precipitation, the golden bangle flew and clattered to the ground.

“As much as I hate to say it, there’s nothing else to do for now.” Hayden sighed. “And I don’t think you’re going anywhere. You have a responsibility to the kid. Effie wants you to take care of her.”

“And I want Effie _here_.” He gritted through clenched teeth. “We don’t always get what we want, do we?” Safia didn’t seem ready to let go of him though. “Okay, _fine_. Fine, sweetheart, I’m staying with you. It’s okay.”

She didn’t believe him or if she did she wasn’t ready to take the chance because she didn’t let go of his sleeve, even when Hayden picked up the token and handed it back to her. She snatched it with her other hand and clutched it to her chest. She only relaxed a little once Hayden crouched in front of her, introduced himself and started talking to her in the same voice Haymitch had often hear him use with Posy, Vick and occasionally Rory. It was, what Haymitch had privately dubbed his _dad_ _voice_. The girl cracked a smile for him twice and even answered a few of his questions.

She never let go of Haymitch’s sleeve.

“I want to check on Katniss.” he said once the doctor had released them.

He was carrying Safia again, she was clinging to him like a small monkey, and it took almost ten minutes to convince her to wait with Hayden while he went to talk with Aster. He didn’t want the child to catch a glimpse of Katniss. He suspected she had enough reasons to have nightmares.

Katniss wasn’t in a better or worse state than that morning and Aster was so obviously at the end of her rope he didn’t linger, simply promising to relieve her from her vigil as soon as he could. She simply glanced at Hayden and the child waiting at the end of the corridor and told him to take care of his family.

“Katniss’ my family too.” he said.  And that was the end of that as far as he was concerned. He loved the girl like his own. That was never going to change. And it was killing him to be so helpless while she was suffering.

Someone awaited them in his and Effie’s suite even though it wasn’t who he had hoped to see. He was still happy and relieved to find his mother there. He hugged her straight out, the kid still in his arms found herself squashed between him and the older woman but she didn’t seem to care. She was cranky and tired and refused to be placed down. There were tears in Iris’ eyes when she finally let go of Haymitch to embrace her other son.

“Gale explained what is happening in the car.” she said. “This is outrageous.”

“Not in front of the kid.” Hayden chided her softly. “Where are Hazelle and the children?”

“They have a suite just down the hall. We are all down the hall.” Iris explained. “Gale insisted.”

Haymitch wasn’t really surprised when Hayden quickly excused himself to go check on the Hawthornes. Iris turned back to him with a strained smile. He could see the toll the stress had on her, she had lost some more weight and her skin didn’t look healthy.

“Everything will be alright, Haymitch.” she insisted with so much authority he wanted to believe her. “You both have been through too much for anything else to happen.” She stepped closer and with a more genuine smile, glanced from him to the kid. “Now, can I be introduced to this lovely little lady?”

Safia seemed to perk up at being called a lady, she straightened up a little.

His mother had a way with kids. She had the skittish little girl wrapped around her little finger in seconds. When Iris suggested a bath and a change of clothes, Safia seemed happy. Right up until she understood it meant letting Haymitch out of her line of sight. In the last few hours, he seemed to have become her new hero, her savior, and she was terrified of having to let go. The fact that they had suitcases full of her clothes and toys calmed her down though and she finally relented and accepted to follow Iris to the bathroom.

He used that time wisely to track down Plutarch who was back in Command. The Gamemaker shook his head as soon as he saw him. “I’m working on it. She’s proud, that’s the problem. And you made it a battle of _bloody_ egos.”

He was restless. He stopped to check on Peeta as he walked back to his room, not entirely surprised to find Annie and Johanna with him. Seven’s victor was at his throat as soon as he had put a foot inside.

“How _the_ _fuck_ did it happen? Why did you let them _fucking_ take her?” Jo hissed, shoving him back. “She’s probably going _fucking_ crazy down there! Why are we sitting on our asses? Let’s just go get her. I don’t mind killing anyone who tries to stop me.”

It took Annie and Peeta to calm her down – mostly Peeta because Annie was still aloof, still processing the news of Finnick’s death. He walked back to his suite feeling like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Johanna was right and he desperately wanted to do as she said : grab a weapon and destroy anything and anyone who would stand on his way to Effie. But then what? They fled and hid for the rest of their lives? They _needed_ Coin’s pardon if they wanted a shot at a normal life. The house with blue blinds and a yellow kitchen seemed like a distant dream now more than ever.

Safia was sitting in the living-room part of the suite next to his mother, carefully spooning soup into her mouth when he came back in. He didn’t have time to say anything that she had already abandoned the food to attach herself to his leg.

“You’re a monkey, aren’t you?” he snorted.

“You left!” she accused with an angry pout. “Is Aunt Effie here now?”

His mother had found pajamas in the clothes Effie had packed for the girl. It was pink obviously, with little golden crowns. Safia’s hair was now untangled and neatly tied back in a braid. And still, the bright blue eyes, achingly familiar, were staring at him waiting for an answer.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” he sighed, carrying her back to the couch. “Finish your soup, then you can get some sleep.”

It wasn’t so easy to take care of a kid and, even with Iris’ help, Haymitch was ready to tear his hair off his scalp way before Hayden finally showed up again with what suspiciously looked like a hickey peeking out of his collar.

Safia was cranky and she pitched a fit when they took the broken doll away after she had cut herself again, despite the fact that she had other stuffed toys and dolls to sleep with. They tried to be understanding. The girl had been through a lot, the fact that she was comfortable enough throwing a tantrum was probably a good thing, but still...

In the end she simply _dropped_ asleep.

One second she was violently arguing that she didn’t want to go to bed and that she wanted her aunt and her house and what not, the next she was slumped on the couch, her sock-clad feet tossed in his lap like it was an everyday thing.

The three of them drew out a collective sigh of relief.

“You should go to bed, Mama.” Haymitch frowned. “You look like _shit_.”

“Watch your language, will you? You have little ears around now.” Iris chided him. “You might need help later. She’s bound to have nightmares, poor thing.”

The way she was watching the child asleep next to him made his stomach flip with nervousness. She was already fond of the kid, he could tell, ready to welcome her with open arms in the family. Because this was real, despite all of his reservations, this was happening. Safia was there to stay.

Now if he could just get Effie back...

Why was it that he never seemed able to protect _all_ of his family at once?

“I’m staying.” Hayden informed her, from where he was slumped on an armchair. “Go to bed, Mama.”

After a few more minutes, she relented, kissing both of them on the forehead before leaving the suite.

“Does everything feel surreal to you?” Hayden asked. “’Cause I feel like I’ve been dreaming and I’m going to wake up any second.”

“Been that way for years.” he snorted. “Since I won really.” He rubbed his eyes. It was difficult to think only a few hours earlier he had been lying in bed with Effie. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “Can you check with Plutarch again?” He didn’t want to risk waking up the kid by moving.

“I checked before coming back. He’s still trying to convince Coin.” his brother sighed. He remained silent for a few seconds and then slumped further down the chair. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asked tiredly, letting his head fall against the back of the couch.

“I failed her. _You_.” Hayden confessed. “I shouldn’t have let them take her. I should...”

“It’s not your fault.” he mumbled. “I’m sorry too.”

“About what?” Hayden frowned.

Haymitch longed for a glass of whiskey to soften the dread and anxiety. After Finnick and Prim’s deaths, with Katniss hanging between life and death and Peeta battling the demons in his head, with Annie pregnant with a child that would never know its father and Johanna who still barely could tolerate to wash her hands... All the things he had cared so much about before felt so pointless... His pride, the last shreds of dignity he had left, all those secrets and lies...

“Everything?” he shrugged. “I don’t know. Take your pick.”

One of the girl’s feet twitched and Haymitch covered it with his hand before she could accidentally kick him in the groin. That would be just his luck and a _fantastic_ way to end the day.

“Why...” Hayden hesitated. “Why did you do it the way you did? I know you were trying to protect us and I get... I _get_ you didn’t want us to know about the appointments because you were afraid but... Why didn’t you _trust_ us?” His brother looked down at his hands. “I think that’s what hurts the most. You didn’t trust us. You would rather have us worry about you, disapprove and judge you than just... Trust us with the truth.” His voice was full of carefully repressed resentment and regret. “I could have helped you. I _would_ have. All the shitty things you did to me, _for_ me... We could have been alright all along, Haymitch, that’s the worst thing. You and me, we could have been alright _all those years_.” 

“Yeah.” he admitted. “Chaff said that a lot of times. So did Effie.”

Hayden shook his head. “Then why didn’t you...”

“ _Because_ I didn’t know _how_ to say it.” he scoffed. “You wanted me to come out at breakfast one day? _Hey, Mama, by the way I’m whoring myself out. No, not just old women, men too, anyone who has the money. You’re_ fucking _proud of me yet?_ ” He dropped the sarcasm, his fingers clenching around the kid’s foot. “People look at you different when they know. I didn’t want you or Mama...” He stopped and licked his lips. “It’s _humiliating_ , Hayden. It’s humiliating when they buy you, it’s humiliating when they use you and it’s humiliating when people look at you afterwards with that sympathetic look in their eyes. I couldn’t take that from you. I could barely take it from Effie.” He didn’t look in his brother’s direction. He lacked courage for that. “I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to be a better brother. I wanted to... I wanted to _save_ you. Keep you out of this. Keep you away from the worst of the Capitol. And maybe I deserved it too, you know. I did a lot of _shit_ , baby brother, I killed _a lot_ of people, not just in my Games... There were hit jobs and the kids in _your_ Games. Maybe I deserved it and I had no right to complain about it.”

There was a long silence during which he didn’t dare look up.

“Bullshit.” Hayden whispered finally before repeating louder. “ _Bullshit_. You deserved none of this. None of us did. We were _kids_ , Haymitch. When they reaped us, we were _kids_. What you did after... You were _sixteen_ for _fuck’s_ sake, cut yourself some slack.” He rubbed his face. “You were not responsible for Mama and me.”

“Of course, I was.” he scowled.

“No.” his brother retorted firmly. “You _weren’t_. It’s no wonder you like that kid so much... You’re just like Katniss. If you love someone, you have to be in charge. You have to...” He stopped and sighed. “I get why you did what you did. I still wish you had done things differently, I wish... You made my life a _fucking_ hell for a long time and, at times, I hated you for that. I forgive you ‘cause I think you were making your life hell too.” He shrugged. “I’m glad you had Effie, at least. I’m glad you had someone with you through all that.”

“I owe her.” he said quietly, his eyes falling on the sleeping little girl. “When she’s out, I’m going to marry her properly.”

“Good.” Hayden snorted. “I’m expecting to be your best man.”

“Sure, baby brother.” he smirked. “Thank you for earlier, by the way.”

Hayden waved that away. “I knew you had a plan. You _always_ have a plan when you have that look on your face, it’s just a matter of guessing what it is.”

He chuckled but that didn’t last long. “You think she’s doing okay?”

The thought of her in a cell _again_ was killing him.

“We won’t let anyone hurt her, Haymitch. I promise you.” Hayden growled. “Coin doesn’t know what she’s going against if she tries. We’ll let Jo have a go at her, that should teach her. Victors united, right?”

“Right.” he repeated. “Victors united.”

Or what was left of them anyway. 

“Hey, baby brother...” he called out after a few seconds, feeling the need to lighten the mood.

“Yeah?” Hayden answered sleepily.

“Someone chewed on your neck.” he mocked.

Apparently oblivious that he had been walking around with a giant hickey on his throat, Hayden slapped his hand against his neck with a colorful curse.

It made Haymitch smirk. Teasing his brother was still the best thing.


	108. Chapter 108

Haymitch stood in front of the window, watching the procession of rebel soldiers on the ground below.

They were marching in and out of the building in their grey uniforms, sometimes escorting someone wearing handcuffs, sometimes joking between themselves like only a victorious army could. The little girl in his arm shifted and he instinctively adjusted his hold on her, absent-mindedly petting her hair for a few seconds. He had become very good at that in the last few hours. Safia had screamed herself awake several times during the night and she still seemed unable to shake the exhaustion off. She had been clingy ever since she had woken up, barely consenting to leave his side long enough for Iris to help her wash up and dress her in a dress that was too puffy for his tastes but that the girl had chosen herself.

Iris, it seemed, had spent half the night at Katniss’ side instead of going to bed as her sons had requested. She had come back at dawn with the good news that the girl was now stable enough that her life wasn’t in danger anymore. Hazelle had forced Aster into bed and had taken her place at the girl’s side, leaving Hayden forced to leave him to babysit the kids.

Haymitch didn’t know at which point babysitting had become something the Abernathy brothers were forced to do.

Iris had offered to keep an eye on Effie’s niece but Plutarch had sent word that he was making progress and that it would help if Haymitch could _not_ show up in Command and rub Coin the wrong way.

So he was staying in his room and he was waiting – which he absolutely hated.

Safia grew upset when he left her anyway so he had told his mother to go get some more rest. The kid kept asking about her aunt and Haymitch didn’t know what else to say but _soon_. She was scared and she didn’t want to be placed down hence why he had been staring through the window for the last hour at least, watching without seeing, his arms slowly growing numb and tired.

“Haymitch?” the girl whispered.

“Yeah?” he answered, distracted.

“What will I do if Aunt Effie stays asleep forever?” she asked. “Do I have to go live with poor people? Grandmother said children who don’t have a family live with poor people.”

He blinked, too tired to even get angry over the privileged bullshit Effie’s mother had drilled in her head. That might be a problem long term, he figured. He had no clue how Effie wanted to do this. Aside from the fact Safia would have to stay with them they hadn’t discussed _how_ they would do this. He wasn’t sure he could take a kid being raised Capitol style under his roof.

“Your aunt is fine.” he said instead. “She will be here very soon.”

The child drew out a little sigh as if he was testing her patience. She straightened up a little to look at him.

“But if she’s not?” she insisted.

It was his turn to sigh because he didn’t want to consider the idea. “If she’s not, you will stay with me, Hayden and my mom.”

She studied him for a while and then pouted. “Are you poor?”

“I…” he started and then rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I have enough money to buy dolls.”

She looked a little pacified by that and settled back with her head on his shoulder. She reached for his jaw and ran her little fingers against the stubble he hadn’t bother shaving in so long it would have been righter to call a beard.

“That itches.” she complained. “You can’t kiss me goodnight if it itches.”

“Figures you would be as fussy as your aunt.” he grumbled.

She had a point though, Effie hated it when his stubble was so out of control and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He told himself it was practical and in no way because she would be pleased.

Safia was absolutely fascinated by the shaving face business and he realized a little too late that in the social class she had been brought in, fathers didn’t shave in front of their kids. He didn’t see the wrong in it so when she asked if she could have some shaving cream too, he humored her. She promptly declared it was sticky and bided him to wash her hands clean of it – which he did because he was certain someone would yell at him if she ended up putting shaving cream on her dress. The aftershave interested her more. It was perfume, she declared, and ladies always wore perfume – which was how she ended up smelling like pine and spices. When he was done, she passed a hand on his jaw and declared herself satisfied.

“You may kiss me now if you want.” she granted.

He rolled his eyes, more amused than he let on by her lady antics. _May_. What five years old used _may_ in correct sentences?

He pressed a kiss to her cheek anyway, figuring that was what she was after.

Shaving had barely taken fifteen minutes. They ended up on the couch. She dozed off, curled up against his chest, and he stared at the ceiling, wondering how people didn’t go crazy out of helplessness. He entertained the idea of visiting Peeta – he wouldn’t bring Safia to Katniss but surely Peeta would be a safe bet? – and he had almost made up his mind when the door to his suite opened, revealing Hayden and…

“Uncle Mitch!” a delighted Posy exclaimed, escaping his brother’s hand to run to the couch. She threw herself on him, almost crushing Safia who crawled away just in time and watched the scene with wide eyes.

“Watch it, sweetheart, there are a couple of things down there I want to keep intact.” he chuckled, catching the kid before she could hit him square between the legs. She laughed and hugged him so tight he was certain his head would pop out of his body. Then she turned to Safia who was huddled against the other armrest and was watching them warily.

“You’re my new friend?” Posy asked, climbing off Haymitch’s lap to sit closer to the little Capitol girl. “Uncle Hayden said I was getting a new friend. That’s really cool ‘cause I don’t have any here! Uncle Hayden is my uncle but he is going to be my new Daddy if he marries my mommy, do you know?”

Posy kept on chatting, summarizing their very complicated family situation but Haymitch turned to his brother, lifting an eyebrow.

Hayden rolled his eyes. “I was talking with Hazelle and she overheard.”

“Finally grew the balls to ask her, baby brother?” he asked.

“Kids present, watch your mouth.” Hayden reminded him while Posy giggled at the bad word. Safia was too stunned to properly understand. “And, no, we were talking about you, it was… misinterpreted.” He shrugged. “Not the point anyway. Look, I have good news and bad news.”

“Effie.” he understood at once, bolting to his feet, his heart racing and his palms clammy. If anything had happened to her… If she had been hurt while he had been holed up in there waiting for Plutarch to be of use for once… Coin would _pay_ for this. She _would_ pay anyway, he vowed, he owed it to Prim.

Posy was still talking but he could feel Safia’s eyes on him.

“Coin agreed to release her with a full pardon in exchange for her maintaining her position as Katniss’ escort. She wants her to prep her when time comes for Snow’s execution.” Hayden summarized. “Officially she will have been a part of the rebellion for as long as you have been. Officiously, all of the president’s advisors are on the same opinion: she can’t go around killing victors’ spouses, all the more so when they’re a public figure like you are. Good thinking on that one.”

He rubbed his face, the weight slowly leaving his shoulders. “That’s the good news?”

“Yeah.” Hayden said. “The bad is…” He looked down. “Look, I went myself. I wanted to bring her back here, surprise you…”

“What is wrong with her?” he snapped. “Spit it out _for fuck’s sake!”_

He hadn’t meant to shout but both girls flinched and he forced himself to breathe deeply despite the terror gnawing at his guts.

“She’s unresponsive.” Hayden explained. “I tried to… I tried to pick her up and she started yelling, she fought me and crawled away. I… They wanted to sedate her but I stopped them, I ordered them to wait. I think it’s better if _you_ go.”

He was halfway to the door when Safia bolted from the couch and grabbed the fabric of his pants, staring up at him with pleading eyes. For a second, he thought about taking her with him. It would probably be enough to make Effie snap out of whatever daze she was in but it wouldn’t be fair on the kid. She had seen enough. He crouched and gently brushed her blond hair away from her face.

“I’m going to go get your aunt, okay?” he said. “You’re going to stay with Hayden and play with Posy.”

“I’ll take them to the garden.” his brother added. “It will give you some time with Effie.”

He nodded gratefully and detached Safia’s hands from his clothes. She wouldn’t let go.

“Come on, sweetheart.” he begged.

She started crying, _wailing_ , clearly upset and scared – they shouldn’t have talked about Effie in front of her, he realized belatedly – and it took Hayden prying the kid away from him for him to be able to make his escape. It made him sick to leave her like that but Effie needed him and Effie should come first right now.

The drive to the prison was short and endless all at once.

He marched into that building with a sour look on his face and nobody even tried to ask him what he wanted. Obviously, they had been briefed. A soldier took him directly to her cell. He passed through a corridor crammed with former escorts, Gamemakers and a few stylists and staff members. Some called him names, others watched him walk by with a resigned look on their face. A couple of them asked for help.

The door of Effie’s cell was open and he stepped in without hesitation. She was huddled in a corner, hugging her legs close to her chest, rocking back and forth, glassy eyes looking straight ahead of her. He dropped to his knees in front of her and reached out, not pausing to think when she flinched.

“Effie.” he whispered, his voice breaking with guilt. He should have listened to Jo. They should have broken her out of there. “Effie, sweetheart, it’s me.” She didn’t acknowledge him. He framed her face, pushing her short hair back, and forced her to look at him. “ _Effie_.”

 She blinked and, finally, her eyes focused on him. She lifted a hand, brushed it against his cheek.

“You’re not real.” she said, almost accusatory.

“’Course I’m real.” he scoffed. “Come on, Princess, let’s get you out of here. I know someone who _really_ wants to see you.” He tried to help her up but, like Hayden had said, she struggled and whimpered. It took him a moment to realize her arm was hurting her. “You’re in pain?” he frowned. Someone was going to get punched in the face over this. And Coin… Oh, he _couldn’t wait_ to find five minutes of quiet to think about how to take Coin out of the chessboard. She didn’t answer him so he tried to pick her up again, more carefully. She fought him but he was prepared this time. “Stop this, Effie. Safia’s been waiting for you and let me tell you that kid has a good set of lungs.”

She went completely still which allowed him to get a better grip on her. He gathered her against his chest and passed an arm under her knees before lifting her up. She was muttering something but it wasn’t until her mouth was closer to his ear that he heard.

“Please, don’t hurt her.” she begged. “I will tell you everything. Please, don’t hurt her. Not her. I can’t… Please. _Please_.”

“Nobody’s going to hurt the kid.” he promised. “Any of our kids. I won’t let them. Come on, Peeta’s worried about you. And Katniss is doing better, that’s great, right? You’re gonna want to see her.” he answered. He kept on talking and she gradually calmed down but it wasn’t until they were out of the building that she truly started to respond. “It’s going to be fine. _Just_ fine. You didn’t say what color you wanted to paint the living-room in our house. Describe it for me.”

She did, stuttering a little at first until the words came out more smoothly, by the time the car reached the Mansion, she looked a little more collected and she insisted on walking. She was still shaken though and she flinched at the slightest noise.

“Where is Safia?” she asked. “Is she in our room?”

“Hayden took her out with Posy.” he answered, keeping a hand at the small of her back. “We have some time.”

“I don’t want her to see me like this.” she declared. “Where is Johanna?”

“In her room, I guess.” he shrugged. “You want me to get her?”

She hesitated and then shook her head, stepping closer to him and letting him wrap his arm around her waist. The second they were in their suite she kicked off the white prison clothes she was wearing and told him to burn them. She walked in the bedroom without a single glance back.

°O°O°O°

It looked like a tornado had destroyed their bedroom. The suitcases she had filled with Safia’s clothes were open and had clearly been rummaged through, the few toys she had grabbed were scattered everywhere, the bed hadn’t been made and when she walked in the bathroom it was to find toothpaste stuck to the sink and some splatters of shaving cream on the mirror.

She ignored everything and ran herself a bath.

She kicked her underwear in the hamper and waited for the bathtub to fill, feeling completely disconnected. Even the prospect of seeing Safia again, of holding her close wasn’t as appealing as it had been a few hours earlier.

“Hey.” Haymitch called softly from the threshold. “You’re… You’re angry with me?”

It was uncertain, almost defensive.

“No.” she whispered. She had no doubt he had done his best and had secured her release as quickly as he could but her mind… Her mind didn’t know what to trust just yet and it was a lot to take in. “I am tired.” And not just physically.

“It’s okay.” he promised, walking closer with a weariness that told her he wasn’t _entirely_ certain she _wasn’t_ angry. “You get some rest. You won’t get much with your niece here.” He snorted. “She’s your niece alright, that girl. Clings to me like a monkey.” 

She blinked, her brain too slow to process everything. “Clings to you?”

“Wants to be carried everywhere.” he shrugged.

“That’s odd. We never carry her.” she frowned. “How is she? Is she alright? Hurt?”

She should have asked that before, she realized. She was already failing Lyssa.

“A few stitches on the arm, some scrapes and bruises.” he summed up, placing his hands on her shoulders. She managed not to flinch but it was a close thing. She was naked and vulnerable and she trusted him, _of course_ she trusted him, but it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. “She’s scared.” he continued. “Been through a lot, I guess. She’s holding up fine all things considered. Mama’s sweet on her.”

He snorted as if it was surprising. She had _never_ doubted Iris would be sweet on her. That woman had a heart of gold. She was certain his mother already considered the child family. She was far too generous for it to be otherwise.

He reached around her to turn off the bathtub tap before it overflowed and placed his hand back on her bad shoulder, probing the area with careful gentleness.

“I am fine.” she sighed. “They jostled it a little, that’s all.”

“You want some painkillers?” he asked, dropping a kiss on the painful zone.

“I am fine.” she repeated.

“No, you’re not.” he scowled.

She stepped in the bathtub instead of answering, knowing it would only lead to an argument. Haymitch had always been overprotective, all the more so after something bad had happened. He steadied her with a hand at the small of her back and another at her elbow when she climbed in the hot water and, even though she was annoyed, she tried to keep it out of her voice.

“Get in with me.” she requested.

She didn’t have to ask twice. He shed his clothes in record time and joined her in the water. The bathtub was square and large enough that they could sit side by side. She scrubbed the memory of prison off her body, allowing him to rub her back and massage her shoulder for a while. After a few minutes, the combined effect of the hot bath and Haymitch’s hands helped her relax and she snuggled up to him.

“You shaved.” she observed, running her hand against his smooth jaw. She liked the stubble better but she knew that it would be back in a few hours – and it beat the beard.

“The kid said I can’t kiss her goodnight with a beard.” he snorted. “Itches or whatever.”

The thought of her niece guilt-tripping him into shaving made her smile. “She has you all wrapped around her little finger already, doesn’t she?”

He chuckled. “What can I say… I’m a sucker for blondes with blue eyes.”

The laugh took her by surprise but it was welcomed. It didn’t last long though. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist.

“I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore.” she confessed in a murmur.

“I’m real.” he offered at once. “This is real, _very_ real.”

He brushed his fingers along the line of her jaw, tilting her head up so he could kiss her. It was slow and soft but that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be _sure_ she wasn’t locked in her head.

“I need to _feel_.” she pleaded against his lips, deepening the kiss. “Help me _feel_.”

He didn’t require a lot of convincing.

The kisses grew dirtier by the second, hands roamed on each other under the water line, groping, squeezing and stroking. His hands ran all the way up her thighs to her hips and lifted her. She followed his lead and straddled him, gripping the edge of the bathtub to steady herself with one hand and using the other to guide him in her. She sank down slowly but with a hiss of pleasure that was echoed by his blissful moan.

Their lips found each other’s again.

His hands imposed a hard rhythm to her hips, pushing her up and slamming her down until she started whimpering against his mouth. He slid further down the tub so the angle was deeper, handing control over to her, letting her use him as she pleased. A few more thrusts and she cried out, her head falling back, her body tensing in rapture only to go limp the next second – if his arms hadn’t wrapped themselves around her, she would have lost her balance and collapse backward but he drew her against his chest instead. She rocked her hips lazily, helping him get there, knowing it would have been easier if they had been able to switch position.

His climax was eluding him and he groaned in annoyance.

“Sit on the edge of the tub.” she suggested.

“Bad idea.” He did it anyway, gripping the edge of the bathtub, desperately seeking some balance as she moved between his knees, careful to keep her body in the water because it was chilly outside and she loved her comfort. “If I end up with a concussion…” he joked only to grunt when she took him in her mouth. She was good at it and she knew him. It didn’t take that long to bring him to the finish line. “Effie…” he warned. She squeezed his thigh to let him know it was alright and also to have some sort of hold on him in case he actually lost his balance. She did her best to prevent a mess when he came, mainly because she intended to stay in that bath for a while longer. “How are you still blowing my mind away?” he snorted, sliding back in the water carefully. She snuggled up to him again, her limbs still pleasantly limp from her orgasm. They were cuddling for a few minutes and she was starting to drift off, lulled to sleep by the way he was stroking her hair when he talked again. “Sweetheart… Effie, there’s something I haven’t told you. You won’t like it.”

“Is it life-threatening?” she asked.

“Depends if you take it so badly you want to kill me…” he mocked.

“Does it concern the children or your brother?” she frowned.

“Not really.” he sighed. “Although technically Hayden was in on it so…”

“Can it wait?” she insisted. If it wasn’t an emergency…

“No ‘cause we need to deal with it as soon as possible and in private.” he winced with obvious regret. “I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. That’s not what I wanted for us but…”

“Us?” she repeated, sitting up to look at him. “Now you _are_ scaring me…”

“Look…” he cringed. “I had no choice, alright? Well, yeah, I guess I had a choice but, I don’t know, the word came out and then it seemed like a good idea and…”

“What are you _talking_ about?” she hissed. “You are not making any sense.”

He licked his lips, his grey eyes nervous and pleading all at once. “I called you my wife in front of Coin and then I sort of lied about us being married.”

She blinked, trying to understand what he was saying. “ _Sort_ _of_?”

“More like _straight out_.” he admitted. “She can’t go and execute _my_ _wife_ , can she? Seemed like a good idea. Hayden confirmed it, secret toasting last year. And now that it’s official you’re pardoned, everyone must already know about it so… Yeah. As far as the rest of Panem’s concerned, we’re married.”

“But we are not.” she argued.

“Which is why we need to take care of it quickly and in private.” he shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, I guess you wanted a proper wedding and everything but…” He shrugged again, clearly expecting her to pitch a fit.

She settled back against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. “I don’t mind. I never mistook you for a romantic” She might have minded before the war but not anymore. All she wanted was Haymitch, a life with Haymitch, the rest she didn’t care about so much. “Do you want to have a toasting then?”

“Yeah?” he suggested. “We can do it tonight… It’s just… It’s for us, right? We don’t really need it but.. I want us to be properly married, sweetheart. I want you to be my wife, I want to be your husband. I…” His hand coiled around her nape loosely. “It’s been so long… I _want_ everything we never thought we could have. Sounds crazy?”

“No.” she whispered. “It sounds lovely. Even if you talking about doing things the proper way makes me wonder if you have knocked your head a little too hard.”

He chuckled. “So we’re doing this then? Tonight?”

“Why not?” she grinned. “It’s as good a day as any to get married.”

The kiss he planted on her lips made her see stars.

They remained in the water for a long time, kissing and talking about that dream house that was taking shape in their shared imagination. Effie could picture it down to the _welcome_ doormat on the front porch. She was impatient for all of them to leave the city and its destruction behind for Four. It would have to wait until Katniss was in a state to do so naturally but even though Effie had always been a patient woman when it mattered, she found herself restless on this. She wanted to move on, leave the memories behind and start a new life, a better one.

The water was lukewarm but they didn’t notice, too busy exchanging lazy kisses and caressing the other’s body. The knock on the bathroom door brought a halt to that, making them both startle.

“Haymitch!” Iris bellowed from the other side of the door, in that tone that meant she was absolutely _furious_ after one of her boys – or both. “Haymitch Abernathy, are you in there?!”

“Full name. You are in trouble.” Effie giggled softly, burying her face in his neck to muffle her laughter.

He rolled his eyes but cleared his throat a little nervously.

“Yeah, why?” he shouted back.

“What is this I hear about you being _married_?” Iris hissed. “And I have to find out from _Plutarch Heavensbee?_ And where is Effie? He told me you were gone to fetch her but no one has seen head or tail of either of you for hours! _Married_ , Haymitch. _Married_. You pulled quite a few stunts on me but _this_? Didn’t you think I deserved to be there at your wedding? My eldest son!” She scoffed in obvious annoyance. “And where is that wife of yours? I have a few words for her too!”

Haymitch nudged her with a mocking smile.

“Payback is a bitch.” he chuckled.

It was her turn to wince. “I am here, Iris!” she called out, escaping Haymitch’s hands to climb out of the tub. She felt better than when she had first walked in that bathroom, _grounded_. She thought she was ready to face the world now.

“Oh, dear!” Iris gasped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think… How silly of me, of course you…”

“It’s fine, Iris.” she hurried in reassuring her… _mother-in-law_? – that would take some getting used to. “I just wanted a bath and Haymitch was helping with my shoulder. We’re coming out now. He will explain everything.”

She toweled herself quickly and tossed it at Haymitch who was getting out of the bathtub too.

“You think she doesn’t suspect we had kinky sex in the bathroom?” he snorted. “You don’t know my mother very well then.”

“Don’t be silly and get decent.” she ordered.

“Bossy.” he complained with a smirk, leaning in to steal a kiss, his grey eyes twinkling in satisfaction. “Bossy wife.”

“Annoying husband.” she retorted with a devilish grin, wrapping herself in a dry towel while Haymitch secured the damp one around his hips. His smirk only deepened.

Iris was waiting in their bedroom, blushing a little, but looking very pleased despite her embarrassment. She pulled Effie in a hug as soon as she saw her and there was nothing hesitant about it.

“I’m so happy you’re alright, dear.” Iris told her before holding her at arm’s length to study her. “You _are_ alright, aren’t you?”

“Perfectly fine, I assure you.” she lied. She flashed the woman her best fake smile. “Is Safia with you?”

“The girls are still in the garden with Hayden.” Haymitch’s mother said. “Posy is teaching her how to play hide and seek.” She pointed an accusatory finger at her son. “Now, _you_ should explain to me why I missed your wedding.”

“You didn’t yet.” Haymitch shrugged, reaching out to wrap her arm around Effie’s waist. He kept his voice detached but it was impossible not to hear the undertone of happiness underneath. “We’re having our real one tonight so, you know, if you want to stop by and watch…”

Iris’ squeal of delight was probably heard three rooms down.

“Silly boy!” the woman exclaimed. She laughed, her eyes shining with emotions. “I am so happy for the two of you, _so happy_!”

They were both treated to another suffocating hug. Effie left Haymitch and his mother together to get dressed in the bathroom, eager to go find her niece and fighting hard the sad knowledge that her own mother wouldn’t be there to hug her before her wedding. Not that Elindra would have, naturally. Probably not. Who even knew though? Her mother had been full of surprises in the months leading to the Quell. Would she have approved her marrying Haymitch? She didn’t think so but, perhaps, she would have learned to tolerate him. Her father would have loved Haymitch and she deeply regretted never introducing them before because she was certain Haymitch would have loved him just as much.

Lyssa would have been delighted for her once certain Effie loved him even though she would have felt her sister was marrying beneath her. Lyssa would have been her maid of honor, of course, and she would have helped her into her dress. In another life, they would have spent the night before the wedding day together, sharing the huge bed in Lyssa’s bedroom like they had done before her own wedding with Rufus, talking about stupid things and laughing a lot. She and her sister had never been close, they had certainly never shared the same kind of bond Haymitch and Hayden had, but they had had their moments.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a silk red dress that made Haymitch’s eyes grow dark with hunger, her blond hair pinned in a complicated bun and with light make-up on her face, she felt ready to face the world, protected by her battle armor. He was dressed once again – in his own clothes, she noticed, not the grey uniform – and Iris was gone.

They headed to the garden together.

Her pace was fast, her heart pounding in her chest, but Haymitch kept up with her without complaining, a small smile on his lips. Once outside, they followed the sound of laughter and shouted accusations of cheating until they stumbled on the group. It wasn’t just Hayden humoring the kids by playing with them.

“ _That_ , I never thought I would see!” Haymitch burst out laughing.

Effie paused, a little startled herself faced with Johanna giving a piggy ride to Posy who absolutely didn’t seem scared by the vicious victor, laughing with all her might and urging her to run faster after Hayden instead. Clearly the game consisted in a team chasing and capturing Twelve’s victor because Safia was safely – and, she was happy to note, with all the poise of someone who had been riding ponies since she was old enough – settled on top of Peeta’s shoulders. The boy seemed to be trying to catch Hayden too. Annie was sitting on a bench, huddled in her coat, an obvious honorary referee.

“How come the kid doesn’t know any fun game, Trinket?” Jo accused. Effie couldn’t help but notice Seven’s victor looked pleased to see her nonetheless but she didn’t have time to care about that now because Peeta placed Safia down and Effie barely had time to crouch and open her arms before the child was on her.

“My darling.” she whispered, her voice tight with emotion.

It was impossible for her to look at the girl and not see her sister.

It was impossible for her to swallow back all the tears running down her cheeks even though she angled her face away from her niece so she wouldn’t see. Safia clung to her and sobbed her heart out, telling her everything in raw sentences and weeping so hard she had difficulties breathing. Effie held fast to her.

“It is over now, my darling.” she promised, her voice almost ferocious. “You are safe. We will keep you safe.”

Haymitch’s hand squeezed her shoulder in a silent gesture of support. Hayden relieved Jo of Posy and crept closer to his brother, Seven’s victor buried her hands in her pockets but remained in her line of sight, Peeta and Annie smiled at her.

“You are safe.” she repeated, dropping a kiss on her golden hair, and she didn’t know who she was talking to: herself or her niece? “You are with family now.”


	109. Chapter 109

Katniss’ eyelids were fluttering open and close but Haymitch didn’t think she was entirely conscious.

He was sitting on the stool near the tank full of liquid she was floating in, toying with the golden bangle Safia had handed back earlier. He had been sitting there for a while, having taken Hazelle’s place and waiting for Aster to come back, wishing the afternoon would go faster and yet feeling more and more nervous as the hour they had agreed to have the toasting at grew closer.

“I’m getting married.” he told Katniss. His words echoed in the otherwise empty room, lost amongst the beeping of machines and the buzz of monitors. “Peeta will be there. I wish you could be too.” He had toyed with the idea of waiting for the girl to be able to come but he had waited so long already… He was scared something else would happen. He was scared he would never get to put a ring on Effie’s finger and officially say _screw you, she’s my wife_ , _I belong to her now_. The truth was he didn’t want to wait. He felt he owed it to the Haymitch and the Effie who had been hiding on a mattress on the balcony for years to seize the opportunity they never thought they would have.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” he said. “Never told you before, did I? I’m proud. Couldn’t be prouder if you were mine.” He shrugged. “You’re mine where it counts anyway.” He licked his lips, trying not to focus on her burned flesh. They would heal her, the doctors were confident. It would scar but she would be as good as new soon. “So, we’re getting a house in Four. Jo’s going to move there for now too, to be with Annie, you know? My mother, Hayden, Hazelle and the kids are too – not sure about Gale but I’m kind of hoping you finally made a decision on that front. Peeta said he’s game if you’re coming. Haven’t talked to your mom about it yet, not a good time really, you know…” He sighed. “Yeah, you know. No way you didn’t see your sister, right? More nightmares for you. My fault. Should have reacted quicker. I would say sorry but… Yeah.”

He remained silent for a while, watching her opening and closing her eyes, staring into nothing. Sometimes, her eyes fell on him but she didn’t seem to _see_ him. The tube in her mouth breathed for her, the liquid numbed her pain, she was hooked to morphling… He hoped she wasn’t suffering too much.

“We’re going to build it from scratch. The house.” he continued after a while. “So it can be just like we want it. You know Effie, she likes her fancy _shit_.” He snorted. “Peeta will have a room ‘cause he can’t live alone for now and… He has no family left. I know you’ve got your mom but I thought maybe you would want a room too.” He slipped the bangle back on. “It’s going to be crowded but we can make the house big. I want my family close. I _need_ my family close. And you’re family, I hope you know that.” He rubbed his face. “I can’t imagine what it’s like, losing Prim. If I had lost Hayden…” He shook his head, he had been terrified _shitless_ of losing his brother quite a few times but he had never had to actually live through it. “It would destroy me. Don’t let this destroy you. Please.” He wanted to reach out and brush what was left of her hair away, pet it perhaps like Effie always did when he was upset, but he didn’t dare. “I miss your sulking, Katniss. You need to wake up soon.”

He remained quiet after that, figuring if she could really hear him she probably wasn’t interested in what he had to say. It was a couple of hours before Hayden knocked on the plastic window to draw Haymitch outside.

“What happened?” he asked as soon as he was out of the room, ready to hear about the latest catastrophe. He had left Effie in their room with strict instructions not to do anything that could land her in prison again – out of sight, out of Coin’s mind as far as he was concerned.

“Nothing.” Hayden reassured him quickly. “Aster’s coming back and, _you_ , are coming with me. Peeta’s waiting outside.” His brother’s grey eyes darted to the injured girl. “I didn’t think it would be good for him to see.”

“Good call.” Haymitch nodded. “Where are we going?”

“They’ve reopened some shops.” Hayden grinned. “And I’ve been told you need a suit to marry in. Plus, you need a ring.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “You wanna go shopping in a bombed city?”

“Me, not so much.” his brother shrugged. “Mama said if I didn’t find you a proper suit, she’d disown me. And you _do_ need a wedding ring for Effie, Haymitch.” 

Hayden looked more excited than he was and Haymitch couldn’t help a smirk. “Let’s go shopping, then.”

His brother clapped his shoulder and dragged him away from Katniss’ room. “Plutarch says he knows the perfect place.”

“’Cause Plutarch knows?” he frowned. “It was supposed to be a small thing…”

“Mama and Hazelle talked about it in front of Posy, the whole Mansion knows.” he snorted. “Don’t worry, Plutarch’s been telling people it’s a renewal to make up for the secret toasting. Coin is busy. We’re in the clear. Gale will babysit the kids and Mama volunteered to keep Safia tonight so you and Effie could have some privacy.”

“Not sure Effie will agree with that.” he frowned. “And the kid… She needs her aunt.”

“You only have _one_ wedding night, you know.” Hayden pointed out. “I can keep her if you think it’s better. She can have a sleepover with Posy. I think they hit it off pretty well.”

“They better, they’re cousins now.” Haymitch snorted.

“Sort of.” his brother sighed.

He bumped his shoulder with his. “You’re ever going to make it official or what?” 

“When it all calms down.” Hayden said. “And we have time to catch our breaths. How are you doing with the kid stuff? You never wanted kids.”

Haymitch took his time answering because it was his brother and he was done lying to him if he could help it.

“It’s weird.” he admitted. “But she’s here and she needs Effie so… It’s not like there’s a choice, you know? And she seems like a nice kid. Spoiled, yeah, but nice.”

“She’s going to be _your_ kid, like it or not.” Hayden pointed out tentatively. “You can’t just say she’s Effie’s responsibility and wash your hands off it. Once you’re married…”

“It’s Effie.” Haymitch cut him off. “Everything she wants, everything she needs to be happy, I’ll get her.” He shrugged. “And if we manage to curb Coin down… I want _peace_ , Hayden. I want… I want everything we thought was out of reach.”

Hayden flung his arm around his shoulders like when they were children.

“And we will get it.” he declared cheerfully but deadly serious. “Truth be told, I can’t wait until we move to Four. I have a feeling _shit_ is about to hit the fan one way or another and we’ll be right in the middle again.”

Coin was a problem, that was what his brother meant.

“Let’s hope we can avoid the _shit_ storm this time.” Haymitch sighed.

He had no real hope about that.

°O°O°O°

Effie methodically plucked out dress after dress from the suitcase she had packed, growing more agitated when she reached the bottom of it. The dresses were either too bright or creased, some were damaged…

“Who cares what you marry in.” Johanna scoffed, following her thoughts. Seven’s victor was sprawled on the side of the bed not currently occupied by a sleeping five years old. Safia had exhausted herself by crying and had fallen asleep when Haymitch had carried her back to their room. Johanna went on, either unaware of her distraction or not caring. “Nobody’s going to wear anything fancy. I’m coming like this.” Effie eyed the brown pants and the simple black sweater the victor was wearing and glanced back at the yellow dress thoughtfully. With a few alterations… Jo cringed. “Not happening, Trinket.”

She sighed but went back to studying the dresses she had hanged in various places around the bedroom. None would do.

“Perhaps, the pale blue?” she suggested without any conviction, pointing out one of the dresses for Jo. Seven’s victor’s interest in clothes was passing at most though and she shrugged not so helpfully.

“You got any lingerie?” Johanna snickered. “I figure that’s the part he’s going to care about anyway…”

Effie’s eyes immediately darted to Safia who was mercifully still soundly asleep. “Not in front of my niece, if you please.”

Jo rolled her eyes but held her tongue – on that subject at least. “How’s that going to work out? The kid? ‘Cause I know Haymitch…”

“He is fine with it.” she hurried in answering.

“You’re sure?” the victor scoffed. “’Cause here you are getting hitched, talking about playing house… Looks a lot like running to me.”

She pursed her lips and folded her arms over her chest. “How is that _running_?”

“I can’t take a _fucking_ shower, you can’t talk about your family.” Johanna didn’t look at her, she was twirling one of Safia’s pink plastic bangle between her fingers. “You can’t shut up about that normal life you want, both of you, like it means you’re less screwed up than the rest of us. Newsflash, Trinket, that dream house of yours, it won’t keep the nightmares out. Yours or his. You’re running away from the demons in your heads and you’re dragging that kid with you.”

Effie almost laughed but it would have been bitter and pathetic.

“Do you _truly_ think I don’t know the nightmares won’t magically disappear?” she hissed. “We are going nowhere until we can take Katniss and Peeta with us. That dream house, as you say… It’s a lifeline, a _promise_. If I learned anything along the years it is that you can never be sure of what will happen tomorrow.”

“You’re going to get hitched.” Jo insisted. “That’s pretty much…”

“We have been hiding for _six years_.” she snapped. “And to be honest, we have been involved longer than that, longer than we had been having sex even. The second he took me up to that roof and explained _everything_ about the Capitol, I…” She took a deep breath and collected herself. _Eyes bright, chin up, smile on._ “I love Haymitch. If I am certain of anything it is _this_. I love Haymitch. He knows I won’t leave Safia. He knows what he is signing for. If he says he is ready for it, I trust him. We don’t lie to each other, Johanna.”

“Don’t you?” she retorted. “’Cause he had no problem lying straight to Hayden’s face for decades. Who says he’s not as good at lying to _you_.”

She shook her head, refusing to even go down that road. “I trust him.” She frowned. “Where is this coming from?”

The victor shrugged. “I don’t get how you could want to get married. I just want the assholes’s heads, the ones who did this to us.” She sneered. “They _hurt_ us, Trinket, they treated us like less than _dogs_. How are you all here, getting married and talking about the future like it’s something to look forward to? It won’t get better tomorrow.”

Effie sighed and turned away, running her hand on the creased blue dress. “It’s a leap of faith, Jo. You have to believe there is a chance at a better life or you will never find it.”

“ _Bullshit_.” Jo spat.

That was the last she consented to say. She kept playing with the pink bangle and left Effie to her preparations.

It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. She may not truly care that it wasn’t a grand ceremony with a giant party but it _was_ her wedding day and she wanted to be perfect. Perfect, in the state she was in, was a long shot.

She tried to style her hair and failed. She grew annoyed and irritated because the hour was growing closer and nothing seemed to work. Eventually Safia woke up and she had to stop tearing her hair off her scalp long enough to order something to eat for the girl. Annie wandered in at some point, saw Effie twisting her hair this way and that all the while making sure Safia was eating her soup properly and took matter in her own two hands.

That was how Effie ended up sitting on the suite’s living-room floor, between Annie’s legs, while Four’s only remaining victor pinned her hair up in a pretty bun, leaving some tendrils of hair to frame her face.

“We need flowers.” Annie hummed. “Johanna, go get us some flowers, please.”

“You’re kidding me?” Jo scoffed.

It took Annie a long time to negotiate but they eventually agreed that if Johanna went in search of flowers for them, Effie wouldn’t force her into a more wedding-proper attire. Soon, Effie’s hair was adorned with pretty white flowers and Safia, who was delighted with the whole improvised beauty session, requested some in her own.

The blue dress wasn’t fitting her properly anymore but Annie was so calm and sounded so certain when she promised Effie they could work with it that she stopped fretting. She stood still and let Four’s victor do her best with pins while Safia studied her own choices of attire with a seriousness that reminded Effie of her sister. The girl didn’t know what was going on but she loved dressing up and didn’t need a real reason to do so.

No matter what Annie did though, the dress either pinched at the waist or looked too loose on the torso. 

“Well, that’s ugly.” Johanna declared.

Safia studied her aunt and wrinkled her nose, she didn’t need to voice her opinion for the whole room to understand it.

It _was_ ugly, there was no sugarcoating it.

“I cannot marry looking like this.” she whined, sitting on the foot of the bed. “I might as well put that uniform back on.”

She nodded at the grey clothes that had been piled on a chair.

Safia made a face. “Grey isn’t pretty.”

“Oh, stop it.” Jo sneered. “He’s not going to care. He’s going to show up in the clothes he was wearing yesterday, you wanna bet?”

With Haymitch, it was a distinct possibility. She buried her face in her hands, feeling completely dejected. It was nerves, she told herself, _just_ nerves. 

The knock on the bedroom door was a welcomed distraction. She smiled faintly when she saw Iris and Hazelle. It was suddenly a lot of people in the room though and Safia immediately scooted closer to Effie, grabbing a fistful of the blue fabric of her dress, shyly ducking her head. She wrapped an arm around her niece without thinking twice about it.

“We come bearing gifts.” Iris declared with a bright smile.

Hazelle had been hiding something behind her back and it took Effie several seconds to realize it was a dress. A white dress. A _clean_ white dress.

“Haymitch sends this.” Iris declared. “He said you were probably going crazy because you didn’t have a proper wedding dress so…”

“He and Hayden bought one.” Hazelle finished. “Peeta helped from what I understood. I’ve been ordered to tell you if you don’t like it, it’s on the boy.”

Effie felt the tears burning her eyes and quickly blinked to chase them away. The dress was exquisite. _Perfect_. It was silk. Layers and layers of fine silk that flooded down from the waist to the floor. The top was clad with sequins and pearls that caught the lights and reflected it, it had a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves that would hide any scars from view. It was both simple and sophisticated, a perfect alliance of her tastes and Haymitch’s. 

“So pretty…” Safia whispered in a gasp.

She laughed and dropped a kiss on her niece’s head, hoping the dress would fit. It required a few adjustments but between hers and Iris’ skills, they managed. And Effie loved her reflection in the mirror. She looked like the Effie from before. A stronger Effie.

Johanna and Annie had left the bedroom for the living-room where the toasting would take place, forbidding her to come out until Haymitch was there.

Hazelle had been helping Safia into a bright pink dress – the girl’s choice – and Effie could hear her trying to convince her niece to have a sleepover with Posy. Safia kept glancing at her aunt as if she was going to disappear and Effie decided if she didn’t want to go she wouldn’t force her. She and Haymitch would have other nights.

Her attention drifted back to the mirror when Iris grabbed her hand. The older woman watched her reflection on the glass with a soft smile.

“I am so happy, my girl. So happy.” Iris whispered. “No one deserves him more than you do.” Effie wanted to answer something meaningful but nothing seemed good enough and Haymitch’s mother must have understood because she squeezed her fingers and nodded at Hazelle. “And I will be just as happy when this one gets her act together and agrees to marry my other son.”

Hazelle looked up, her Seam eyes darting from Iris to Effie. “It’s complicated, you know that.”

“Only because you make it so.” the old woman declared. “He loves you, you love him and he loves your children. What is complicated about that?”

Hazelle averted her eyes, obviously ill-at-ease. Whatever her reasons were, Effie thought they were her own and she doubted Hayden would have liked to see her put on the spot like that so she did the only thing she could think of and joked. “Well, she _would_ find herself with an escort for a sister-in-law. I suppose that would be complicated enough.”

The other woman flashed her a grateful look. “You’re not that bad. For a Capitol.”

“You are not that bad. For a District woman.” Effie retorted with a smile. “And you are rather gifted at cutting hair which is always a plus.”

Hazelle and Iris laughed – which had been her aim – and Safia wandered closer, slipping her hand in hers.

“What do you think, my darling?” Effie hummed. “Am I pretty? Do you think Haymitch will like it?”

“You’re beautiful, Aunt Effie.” the girl answered very seriously. “Are we having a tea party?”

Mindful of her dress, Effie crouched in front of the child. “It’s more of a toasting party. That’s how you get married where Haymitch comes from. You like Haymitch, don’t you? You don’t mind him being your uncle?”

Safia furrowed her brow. “But he is Posy’s uncle. Won’t she be mad if I take him?”

“He can be both your uncle.” she smiled. “You can share.”

She thought it over for a second and then pursed her lips. “Posy’s uncle Hayden is going to be her new Daddy. Is Haymitch going to be my new Daddy? I don’t want a new Daddy. I want _my_ Daddy. I want Father.”

Her lips wobbled and Effie framed her face with her hands. “No, my darling… It’s different. Posy never knew her father, you understand? Haymitch would never try to replace yours. He will be your uncle like I am your aunt.”

“But then where do I live?” the girl insisted. “I want to stay with you.”

“ _Of_ _course_ , you are staying with me, Safia.” she breathed out. “I would never leave you. I won’t _ever_ leave you again.” She was making a mess of this, she thought, looking up in search of help. She found Hazelle’s eyes who gave her an encouraging nod. “You will live with me and Haymitch and we will both take care of you. Like a family. And look how wonderful it is… You get new cousins to play with and another uncle and…” She faltered, unsure how to call Iris. “And you get to sample Haymitch’s mother’s cookies which, strictly between you and me, are the best you will ever taste…”

Safia stared at her for a very long time.

“Posy is not a lady.” the child declared. “She plays games that are meant for boys. Grandmother would be mad.”

“Did you have fun playing with her?” Effie asked.

Safia shuffled awkwardly on her feet. “Yes.” she admitted. “But it’s not like a lady. I am a lady.”

“You can be a lady even if you don’t play ladies games.” she offered. “Just be sure to be kind, polite and to mind your manners. The rest… The rest isn’t important anymore.”

“Posy wants to have a sleepover tonight.” Safia informed her.

Effie briefly glanced at Hazelle. “I heard. Do you wish to go?”

The girl chewed on her bottom lip. “Where does she live? Is it far?”

“Just down the hall, sweetie.” Hazelle answered. “You can come back here if you have a nightmare. It’s like a very big house here, you will just be in another room.”

Safia hesitated a little longer and then finally nodded. “I want to go so I can teach Posy about tea parties.”

“That will go well.” Hazelle snorted.

There was a knock on the door. It opened before Effie could bid them to come in and Hayden’s head popped in between the door and the wall. “Can I come in?”

“If you had waited before opening the door, I might have had a chance to answer that.” she retorted, standing up and smoothing her dress.

“Someone’s cranky.” Hayden laughed, stepping in and holding the door open for Hazelle. Safia wandered after her and then ran away with a “ _Haymitch_!” shout. He hadn’t been joking when he had claimed her niece was clingy and, despite her earlier reserves, she seemed to have taken to Haymitch easily.

“You are wearing an actual suit with an actual tie.” she observed. It wasn’t a tux but the dark grey suit was fancy enough that she didn’t mind. “Does that mean Haymitch is dressed too?”

“Mama _is_ scary.” Hayden deadpanned.

“No need to thank me, dear.” Iris answered, patting her hand. “I wouldn’t have let my son look less than his best on his wedding day.” She kissed her cheek. “I will see you later.”

The old woman closed the door behind her, leaving Effie and Hayden alone.

“You’re beautiful.” he offered.

“Who chose the dress?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“I’m supposed to say Haymitch.” he shrugged. “But it was more Peeta and me. He’s _hopeless_ with clothes, you know that.”

“It’s a beautiful dress and I love it very much.” she replied. “Thank you.”

“He did choose this, though.” Hayden grinned, taking a small black jewelry box out of his pocket. He didn’t open it. “You’re not getting a peek until it’s time.”

“Tease.” she accused with amusement.

He took another box from his other pocket. “You can have this one. He didn’t see it. I’m not sure if he expects a ring or not but I thought… _Screw_ _it_. If you’re going to wear one, he can too.”

She grabbed the box and opened it to reveal a plain white gold ring. It was something Haymitch would like, she thought. It was certainly less glaring than the ring Beetee had gifted him with all those years ago and that he had been wearing ever since. It was plain, discreet and elegant.

She hadn’t thought about wedding rings. He had the bangle she had given him before the Quell and she had concluded it would have to do for such a hurried affair. She was glad she would have something to slip on his finger though.

“Thank you!” she beamed, tossing her arms around his neck.

Hayden hugged her back tightly. “What wouldn’t I do for my sister?” She closed her eyes and welcomed the knowledge that she might not have any blood relatives left but she still had a family.  “So...” he snorted against her ear. “Wasn’t sure who your maid of honor was. Who should I sneak this to?”

Her thoughts wandered towards Lyssa who should have been, by all means, standing right there with her. The answer left her lips without her having to truly think about it and Hayden nodded his understanding.

“Will you escort me?” she requested. “I don’t know if it’s done in Twelve but…”

Her knowledge of the working of a toasting was relatively basic. She had gone over it when she had been planning Katniss and Peeta’s wedding, wishing to include something traditional in the ceremony, but she and Haymitch hadn’t discussed the details of their own toasting. It was customary to offer some sort of vows. She had prepared something but knowing him as she did, she thought there were good chances they would skip that.

“Sure.” Hayden agreed easily, offering her his arm. “My honor.” She grabbed it with a smile but he didn’t immediately guided her towards the door. He watched her instead with a small smile. “Do you remember the first thing I told you when we met?”

“That my name sounded like fate.” she hummed. “Because Haymitch collected women like trinkets.” 

“Yeah.” he snorted, his smile faltering a little. “Well, I’m glad he found you. I’m glad you’re the last trinket he will ever get.”

“Now, that is simply _cheesy_.” she laughed, a little moved all the same. “If I remember correctly, Haymitch and I were already arguing not five minutes after that.”

“He hit on you and you put him back in his place.” Hayden recalled. “I won’t lie, I fell a little bit in love at that moment.”

“I _was_ a little infatuated with you from your Games.” Effie confessed.

“Funny how life turns out right?” he snorted. “It could have been you and me.”

She smiled, it was soft but not sorrowful. “No. Never. I felt it from the start, you know. Even when he drove me crazy.”

“I know.” Hayden teased, rolling his eyes. “I told you, you two in the same room back then… The tension was unbearable. And I’m glad it didn’t turn out to be you and me, don’t misunderstand me. We could have been good but, you two, you are _great_. And I wouldn’t have Hazelle and the kids. I wouldn’t change that.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “Besides, you’re too annoying on an everyday basis.”

“I swear! What a nice thing to say to someone on their wedding day!” she huffed. “You are not exactly perfect either, if you must know.”

“Good thing we’re not marrying each other then.” he grinned, nodding at the door. “Ready?”

She took a deep breath but was unable to shake the smile off her lips.

“Truth be told…” she said “I have been ready for years.”

_Eyes bright_ , she told herself in a desperate attempt at pretending Elindra was right behind her _, chin up, smile on. Here you go, Euphemia dear._

°O°O°O°

Haymitch forced himself not to look in the direction of the bedroom in case he caught a glimpse of Effie – Annie had been drilling into his head for half an hour that it was bad luck – while Hayden went to knock and warn them that everything was ready. He looked through the window instead. Night was falling, making it almost impossible to see the grounds below.

Annie and Peeta were already sitting on one of the couches, the sound of their chatter was nice, almost enough to calm his rugged nerves. Beetee wasn’t too far from them, in his wheelchair, looking in the distance, still a little aloof since those bombs had rained on the kids – guilt was making Gale angry but it made Beetee withdrawn.

“You look like you’re going to make a run for it.” Johanna commented, leaning against the wall next to him.

“I’m thinking.” he grumbled.

“About?” she insisted. “’Cause if you want to make a run for it, I will have to break your legs. She really wants this _shit_ for whatever reason.”

“Since when are you Effie’s friend instead of mine?” he scoffed.

Johanna’s face grew serious.

“You and me, we’ve been friends a long time.” she replied, her voice detached. “And I hate Trinket, I _do_. But what we’ve been through… We were in an arena together, different kind but the bottom line’s the same. I’ve got her back. She’s got mine. That won’t ever change now. It tramps friendships from before, got it?”

He nodded. Jo was important to Effie now in a way she had never been before. Often when Effie woke up from a nightmare, his name wasn’t the first thing to come out of her mouth. It was Johanna she called for. He sort of understood. If he and Maysilee had both survived, he might have clung to her in the same way. They had gone through something life altering together and there was no coming back from it.

“Great.” Jo sneered. “So if she wants to marry you, she gets to marry you, no matter how stupid I think it is. Run and I break your legs.”

“I’m not going to run.” He rolled his eyes. “I was just thinking…”

“Thinking what?” she snapped.

“Thinking Finnick should be here.” he finished, almost aggressively.

Finnick should have been in one of those stupid grey suits just like he, Peeta and Hayden. He should have been on that couch next to Annie or mocking him about jittery nerves. He should have been _there_ just like Hayden was.

He wasn’t the only presence he was missing. He really wished Katniss was there too. She would tease and taunt – or she would have _before_ – and he would grumble and snap but…

“Haymitch!”

He turned around in time to catch the pink missile flinging itself at his leg. Despite the dark trail his thoughts had taken, he smirked and hauled the girl up in his arms.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he greeted, tapping her glittery pink chest. “Changed clothes again, did you? How many dresses a day do you go through?”

Safia giggled but quickly grew serious. “Aunt Effie says you are going to be my uncle…”

“And I’m out of here.” Jo snickered, wandering away. “Good luck with that one.”

The girl’s eyes followed her retreating back but quickly darted back to his face. He sighed, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t used to dealing with kids that small. At least, as difficult as they were, Katniss and Peeta usually understood what he meant without him being forced to sugarcoat it.

“I’m marrying her so, yeah, that makes me your uncle.” he shrugged. “You’re okay with that?”

Maybe they should have asked the kid _before_ , he mused.

“Do I have to call you Uncle Haymitch now?” she asked. “I think that’s proper. Grandmother would say so.”

The way she didn’t seem to be able to properly form her _r_ was absolutely adorable – something he would have denied if anyone had asked him.

“You can call me what you want.” he offered. “You can keep on calling me Haymitch, if you like that better. I don’t mind.”

She placed her hand on his cheek and made a displeased face at the return of his stubble. A clean shaved face only lasted so long on him… “You’re itchy again.”

“I’m an itchy person.” he answered, matter-of-factly. “I guess you have to get used to it.”

She pouted but still pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Itchy.” she complained and then completely switched topic. “I’m going on a sleepover at Posy’s. Did you know we all live in a big house so it will be like I’m still in the same house as Aunt Effie?”

“Yeah.” he chuckled.

She fingered the collar of his shirt nervously, looking down. “So I can come back if I’m scared because it’s only down the corridor.”

“Sure.” he nodded, not certain of what he was expected to say.

“But what if _the_ _corridor_ is scary?” she insisted. “The house is _very_ big. What if I get lost?”

“You just tell Hayden or Hazelle if you get scared, alright?” he said. “One of them will bring you back.”

“And if there are monsters…” she argued.

“There won’t be.” Haymitch cut her off. “Monsters are scared of victors and you’re in luck, you’ve got a lot of them in the family.”

She pondered that for a few minutes, still making a mess of his collar. “What if it rains shiny things again?”

“It won’t.” he said, swallowing back the instinctive growl at the thought. The images of those kids blowing up… They were stuck in his head. They would be forever.

“But what if it _does_?” she insisted.

“Sweetheart, _I swear_ you’re safe.” he vowed and that was a promise he intended to keep. “I won’t let anything hurt you. _Ever_.” He wouldn’t let anything else happen to Katniss and Peeta either. Enough was enough. She looked unconvinced and he couldn’t exactly blame her. “You know what’s the most important thing to me?”

“In the whole world?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure.” he humored her. “In the whole world.”

She tilted her head. “Aunt Effie?”

“In a way.” he answered. “It’s my family. Nothing I wouldn’t do for my family, you understand?” Slowly, she nodded. “And guess what? You’re my family too now.”

“So, I’m the most important thing in the whole world?” she frowned. That was a shortcut if there ever was one but he nodded, thinking it would be quicker than getting lost in explanations. She flashed him a bright smile. “Alright. You can be my most important thing too but only after Aunt Effie.”

“Deal.” he snorted.

“You’re ready out there?” Hayden called from the bedroom through the closed door.

Iris walked closer to him and held out her arms for the child. Safia went with her willingly enough but that didn’t stop his mother from pressing a long kiss to his cheek. “I am _so proud_ of you, Haymitch.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat. 

Then the door swung open and he forgot to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaaaa! For once the cliffhanger isn't that nasty ;) Tune in next week for the Invictus wedding! We're coming close to an end. For now there are 115 chapters in all but I'm not sure yet that some won't be cut in two. I'll keep you updated. But yeah... For now... We're entering the beginning of the end. I hope you liked this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts!


	110. Chapter 110

Haymitch watched Hayden escort Effie to the fireplace, looking proud like a peacock. He vaguely heard Annie, Hazelle and his mother whisper some words of admiration but he couldn’t have repeated what they said, his whole attention was focused on Effie. She was beautiful. The dress, the flower in her hair, the knowing smile on her red painted lips…

“Someone likes what he sees.” she teased in a whisper when Hayden let go of her arm.

“I always like what I see when I look at you.” Haymitch smirked.

“ _Smooth_.” she grinned, reaching out to tug at his collar with an amused sort of disapprobation. “No tie.”

“Ties aren’t my thing, sweetheart.” he snorted.

Her grin stretched into a smile. “You don’t say.”

“If you’re done flirting, can we get this thing over with?” Jo asked, breathing out a long suffering sigh. “Some of us have things to do, places to be.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like where?”

“There’s a bottle of tequila in my room with my name on it, if you must know.” Seven’s victor shrugged. “Much more interesting than this. I’m just here ‘cause Cresta forced me.”

“Jo, I’ve been waiting for this _forever_.” Hayden growled. “Kindly _shut up_ and watch.”

“Hayden, mind your language, there are children present.” Iris rebuked. “But, _really,_ Johanna, dear, he has a point.”

Haymitch glanced at Effie who had trouble keeping her amusement in check.

“Thinking we could do this the traditional way was hopeless.” she chuckled.

“I was all for doing this just you and me.” he reminded her, reaching for her hand and squeezing gently.

“Stop playing for time and marry me, Haymitch.” she commanded, her blue eyes twinkling with happiness. That was a good look on her. He liked it. 

“Always bossing me around.” he accused without much heat. He ran his thumb on the inside of her wrist.

“They’re flirting again.” Jo whined. “Someone kill me now…”

“It would be easier if someone conducted the ceremony.” Iris cut in. “Hayden, dear…”

“Oh, _fine!_ ” his brother snapped. “First the vows. Haymitch, you first.”

He spared a glare for his brother and realized in the same time that he had, maybe, not thought far enough ahead. There were a lot of people in the room. He was uncomfortable expressing his feelings in private, how was he supposed to do it in front of his whole family, adopted or otherwise?

Effie pressed his hand, bringing back his attention on her. He cleared his throat nervously and dropped his eyes to the floor. Silence stretched until it was uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Effie offered tentatively. “We can just go directly to the part where I inevitably burn the toast.”

Her tentative joke made him smile and he entwined their fingers together, focusing on her and ignoring the rest of the room even though they were all staring and he sort of hated it.

“Thank you for not being clever.” he said.

“That’s off to a good start.” Johanna cackled but she was promptly hushed by four different people.

Haymitch locked eyes with Effie, a little nervous she would have misunderstood. She hadn’t. She had perfectly understood him. The two of them not being a clever idea had been a recurrent argument when they had first tried to fight the thing between them.

“What you’ve done for me… What you’ve been to me… I can never repay that.” he continued simply. “For a long time, you were… You were the only person on my side.” He tried not to notice Iris and Hayden flinching in the corner of his eyes. He wasn’t trying to settle the score or to hurt them but it was the truth. “You kept me sane. You kept me safe. You always forgave. You’re my chance. I’ll never let go of that, of _you_. So that’s my vow to you.” He cleared his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I vow to never give up. On you. On _us_.” He glanced at Hayden who got the hint and tossed him the black jewelry case. He caught it but not without some fumbling. “ _Nice_ , baby brother. I knew I should have asked Peeta to hold on to that.”

A round of laughter and chuckles answered him, washing away any possible tension that his vows may have caused. His mother still looked a bit sorrowful but Haymitch chose not to linger on that, taking the wedding ring out of its box instead and sliding it on Effie’s finger right up to the first knuckle, then he hesitated, searching her eyes.

“You want this, right?” he whispered.

“With everything I have.” she whispered back.

The ring was a perfect fit. He had let Hayden and Peeta argue over the perfect dress forever but the ring had been his pick. The diamond was a respectful size and nestled in the center of a delicately chiseled flower, the ring itself was carved in the form of intricate leaves adorned with smaller diamonds. It was a work of art and that was why he had chosen this one instead of the more dazzling ones.

“Haymitch, it’s beautiful!” she gasped.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can pick something nice once in a blue moon.” he grumbled. He didn’t have time to say much more because she framed his face and pulled him in a kiss that made him see stars.

“Yeah, you’re not supposed to kiss the groom before the end, Effie.” Hayden mocked in the midst of another round of laughter.

Effie pulled back and flashed them all a beaming smile. “I make no apologies.”

“Nor should you.” Iris chuckled, distractedly smoothing the silk draping Safia’s shoulders. “Your turn now, dear.”

“You want your cards, Trinket?” Jo taunted.

“Will you leave them _alone_?” Peeta sighed. “I swear, Jo…”

“I have no need for cards.” Effie cut in before it could escalate. “I have memorized my vows, thank you very much.”

“ _Of_ _course_ , you did.” Seven’s victor cackled, waving her hand as if to tell her to proceed.

Privately, Haymitch thought a quick normal wedding had been asking for too much. Those people were all crazy. _They_ were all crazy.

“Haymitch.” she started with a soft smile.

“You remember his name, that’s good.” Johanna commented only to be shushed by the whole room.

Haymitch had to fight an irresistible urge to start laughing. It was nerves, he thought. He hated being put on display like that, had hated it since the fiftieth Hunger Games. He could handle the cameras but that was all pretend, _this_ was _real_.

“Haymitch.” Effie repeated, sparing a short glare for her friend. “When I first met you I thought you were a very arrogant man who believed his charms would always secure everything he wanted. I soon concluded you were a very arrogant man who believed his charm always secured everything he wanted.”

“You realize you’re supposed to say something nice, sweetheart, right?” he snorted.

She flashed him a cheeky grin. “I learned a lot from you.”

“Like sarcasm.” Hayden coughed not so discreetly.

“You opened my eyes, that wasn’t a small feat by any means.” she continued more seriously. “I used to dream of a perfect man who would sweep me off my feet and you are not perfect but I wouldn’t have it any other way. From you I learned courage, the sense of sacrifice and, above all, strength. You bend but you never break and I admire that.”

“Is that a sex metaphor?” Jo loudly whispered to Annie. She was rewarded with a disapproving glance.

“I also learned love.” Effie confessed, dropping her eyes. “A love without conditions is not something you will find easily in the Capitol. You love me ugly, you…”

“You’re never _ugly_.” he cut her off with a frown.

“Thank you for proving my point.” she smiled briefly. “You are the strongest person I have ever met and I am proud you chose _me_.” She toyed with the brand new ring on her finger. “This is my vow to you: to always be there for you and to try and be someone you can always be proud of.”

Johanna nudged Peeta with her elbow. “Noticed how she made the vows all about herself…”   

“I’m going to smother you with a cushion.” Peeta threatened but his eyes were amused and not crazy so Haymitch let it pass. He was about to suggest moving on the actual toasting part when he glimpsed the look Hayden and Effie exchanged, it morphed in a look between Hayden and Iris and then their mother was gently pushing Safia in their direction. The little girl sauntered closer, a black box carefully clutched in her tiny hands. She handed it to Effie, obviously very proud of herself for not tripping or dropping it, and Haymitch ruffled her hair before he could think twice about it.

Safia gasped in horror and glared at him. “My hair, Haymitch!”

The whole room burst out laughing again.

“She’s Effie’s niece alright.” Hayden commented.

“Come here, dear.” Hazelle called, making an effort to sound serious because Safia’s eyes were two big blue pools full of tear as she patted her blond curls adorned with flowers. “Your hair is absolutely _perfect_. He didn’t knock out a single flower.”

“Promise?” Safia insisted.

“Promise.” Hazelle offered without blinking.

Haymitch wondered when she had learned to lie with such a straight face.

Everyone was watching the girl and thus he was surprised when he felt Effie taking his hand again and sliding something on his finger. The ring was white gold, plain and discreet enough that it wouldn’t draw much attention.

“Someone’s been plotting behind my back.” he accused.

“Your brother is thoughtful.” she replied. “Thank him when you can.”

“If I have to…” he joked, helping her down so they could both kneel in front of the fireplace. She gathered her silk skirt around her, obviously scared of either staining it or damaging it.

An hush fell on their guests and Haymitch liked it better that way because with his back turned, he could pretend they were alone. He guided Effie’s hands as they lighted the fire together, mocking her gently when she dropped the third match, too scared of getting burned.

It was Peeta who brought them the bread, announcing that he had sneaked to the kitchen earlier and made it himself. The bread indeed looked like Twelve’s familiar rolls and Haymitch thanked him by silently squeezing his forearm. The boy seemed to understand because he clapped his shoulder once – and Haymitch would have never admitted but it _hurt_ because Peeta was still strong as an ox.

Haymitch toasted his slice of bread and brought it to Effie’s lips. She took a bite, immediately running her thumb against her lips to catch wayward crumbs. He replaced her thumb with his lips, not even caring who was watching. He couldn’t even hear the _oohs_ and _aaws_. They were locked in a world of their own in which only the other existed. It was a game they were only too used to play and they were very good at it.

Her slice of bread was indeed burned but he ate it anyway without complaining and he kissed her fingers when she brushed them against his mouth in her quest to get rid of crumbs.

“Wife.” he smirked, because it was tradition.

She had either made researches or someone had explained how a toasting worked because she smirked back. “Husband.”

They stared at each other for a long time, trying to process that they had _really_ done it. He could remember a thousand instances where he had thought they were doomed. He remembered the first time in her apartment, he remembered her clad in feathers, looking like a goddess towering over him. He remembered the heartbreak when he had thought she would leave for Six, the phone calls when the rest of the world was asleep, the first time he had admitted _I need you_. He remembered the many times he had tried to let her go, be it because of the strain it put on his relationship with Hayden or because it would have been safer… He remembered the despair he had felt those months after Johanna and Finnick had barged in her apartment in the middle of the night. He remembered the first time she had said _I love you_ , a time he had desperately needed to hear it. He remembered his anger when his mother had hinted he should just step aside so Hayden could have her. He remembered the pain when she had been lost to the Capitol. He remembered how hopeless they had felt all this time and now…

Hayden cleared his throat. “That’s the point where you kiss the bride, Haymitch.”

He rolled his eyes but he _did_ kiss her if only to shut his brother up. A real kiss too. She giggled against his mouth but it ended in a satisfied little sigh when she buried her fingers in his hair and tilted his head on the other side.

_Euphoria_ , he mused, _was sweet_.

What happened next was a blur because he couldn’t take his eyes off her for more than five seconds in a row. He embraced Hayden, received congratulations, accepted the flute of champagne Annie pressed in his hand realizing it was his first taste of alcohol in forever and not even caring…

Safia eventually forgave him the mishap with her hair but he had to work for it. Once her forgiveness was secured though she made him carry her everywhere until she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind.

With Effie at his side, he felt invincible.

°O°O°O°

The party went on for an hour – even though, to Effie, it was more _a gathering_ than _a party_ – and she was slowly growing more and more tired. The heels were hurting her feet, the stress from the previous days and the lack of sleep were starting to wear her out.

She was relieved but tried not to show it when Annie, Peeta and Beetee excused themselves. Johanna had sneaked away as soon as she had been able to. Soon it was only Haymitch’s family and Hazelle left. Hayden wrapped his arms around her and she hugged back readily.

“I’m _really_ happy for you.” he said.

“Paws off my wife, baby brother.” Haymitch joked, stopping next to them. “Go get your own.” He nodded to Hazelle who was talking with Iris a few feet away. He kept his voice low because of the sleeping little girl in his arms. Effie couldn’t help a soft smile. She brushed the loose tendrils of hair away from Safia’s face.

“I don’t understand why she asks to be carried around everywhere.” Effie frowned. “It’s not something she used to do. Lyssa and Mother would never have allowed it.”

God forbid Safia was anything but a perfect little lady.

Haymitch’s face was thoughtful and a little sad. “I think she’s scared she’s going to be left behind, sweetheart.”

That made sense and Effie’s heart broke in her chest.

“That’s not happening on my watch.” Hayden said, outstretching his arms to relieve Haymitch of her small weight. He must have glimpsed the hesitation on Effie’s face because the junior victor flashed her an understanding smile. “We’re two doors down. She will be fine. I will bring her back if she gets scared.”

She relented but reluctantly. She didn’t like not having Safia close just like she hated the fact Katniss was still in the hospital and Peeta was several corridors away.

It took her ten minutes to make sure Hazelle had everything from a set of pajamas to one of Safia’s doll. The woman tried to be nice but was impatient about the whole thing.

“I’ve got four kids, you know.” the District woman sighed. “I’m pretty sure I can watch yours for a few hours.”

“Hey, no cat fights.” Hayden chided them. “Come on, Hazelle. Gale’s going to scream murder. We’ve left him with the kids for too long.”

“They’re so domestic, it’s sickening.” Haymitch commented in her ear after they had taken their leave.

Iris was quicker about her goodnights, hugging each of them again and repeating at least twice how proud and happy she was.

Soon, they were alone and all Effie could think about was the comfortable bed in the other room. Haymitch’s thoughts must have been on the same line because he clasped her hand and guided her there. She let him unzip the dress and she peeled the numerous layers of the suit off his body. Eventually, they crawled between the sheets, holding tight to each other, their hands roaming on each other’s skin. They kissed but it was lazy, not a built-up to pleasure but simply a way to _enjoy_ the other’s presence.

“Can you leave it on?” she whispered with a shiver when he reached for the lamp on the nightstand.

Darkness wasn’t something she would have dealt well with at that moment. The memory of the previous night spent in another cell was too fresh. She pressed herself against his warm body, breathing his scent in and reminding herself that it was over, for now at least, and that she was safe.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips on the top of her head.

“You ever marvel at how far we’ve come?” he asked distractedly. “You were a baby when I met you.”

“I am five years younger than you are.” she huffed. “I was _hardly_ a baby.”

“But you _were_ , princess…” he argued. “So naive…” He snorted. “Very sexy though. Could barely keep my hands off you…”

“Truly?” she deadpanned. “Why, Haymitch, I never noticed.”

His chuckles were low and rough in her ear.

“Minx.” he accused, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. “But _mine_.”

His hand covered hers and played with the ring on her finger.

“Yours.” she breathed out with something akin to awe. She brought her hand to his cheek, ran her fingertips along his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose. He had aged since the first time they had met, a decade would do that to anybody. There were lines at the corners of his eyes that didn’t use to be there. She could have sworn they hadn’t been there before the war either. “I thought I had lost you so many times…” she confessed.

“Never again.” he promised. “No more goodbyes either. We’re stuck together now.”

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, lazily coaxing his mouth open.

“Never again.” she echoed.

She thought that might have been the true vows they really wanted to keep.


	111. Chapter 111

“Girls.” Haymitch snapped for the third time, trying and failing to focus on the papers spread on the coffee table in front of him. Twelve’s rebuilding was a conundrum. Where to find the funds? Who to send back first? Hayden was representing the few amount of people left from their District and wanted his opinion on the plans he was about to present Coin with but Haymitch wasn’t optimistic.

Snow had surrendered five weeks earlier, Coin had been President by interim since then and not much had changed in Panem. People were thirsty for blood and the mockery of trials that escorts, Gamemakers and some stylists had been put through had only appeased them so much. It had certainly _not_ appeased Effie and Plutarch who had watched with disgust and sorrow people they had been working with for years being executed one after the other.

Snow’s execution was to be held the following day and Haymitch found himself with conflicted feelings. He wanted the man dead but he wasn’t sure Katniss was up to doing that yet.

“It’s not me, Uncle Haymitch.” Safia protested with a pout. “I am quiet like you said, it’s Posy who talks loud.”

He glanced at the two little girls playing at having a tea party in a corner of the suite’s living-room and pursed his lips in annoyance. They had been laughing and talking loudly for hours now, he was nursing a powerful headache and Effie should have been back already.

“Don’t snitch on your friends, Safia.” he rebuked even though Safia _had_ been quiet as a mice. She never was a huge bother, that much was true. Unlike Posy, she was happy to play by herself. “And keep it _down_ , Posy.”

Their whispers weren’t much better because when they whispered, they whispered _loudly_ and he rubbed his eyes, wishing he could have a drink to cut out the edge. His headache was bad and his mood was worse so when the door of the suite was flung open and banged against the wall he glared at the intruder.

Katniss looked like a human patchwork of newly implanted skin, half of her hair was singed and she had lost a lot of weight.

“We need to talk.” she croaked, her voice rough from lack of use.

She had been released from the hospital three weeks earlier and had spent the time since then hiding in various cupboards and tiny places, making it his job to look for her and bring her back to her room. Aster Everdeen was no help at all. She fled her daughter’s presence as much as she could, leaving it to Effie and him to take care of her. Effie was getting so angry with the woman she had suggested several times they should move the girl in their own suite but it was already a tight fit with Safia and Haymitch thought Katniss would like her mother’s presence better than theirs.

Katniss’ eyes were wide and glassy and he wondered when she had last taken her medication – they were still giving her morphling tablets and he knew without having to ask anyone that she was now addicted to the stuff.

“Listen to that.” he sneered without truly meaning to. “The Mockingjay found her voice. Plutarch’s going to be happy.”

Katniss didn’t even flinch, she took a few steps in the room, pulling on what was left of her hair nervously. “I talked to Snow, he says… The bombs. The parachutes… The dead kids… Prim… Was it us?”

He reacted too late. He barely had time to stand up. The words _bombs, parachutes_ and _dead kids_ weren’t words they used when Safia was nearby. The kid let out a cry of pure terror and launched herself at him, almost climbing him up in her need to find safety.

“They’re coming back?” Safia screamed, completely terrified. “The shiny things? They’re coming back?”

“No, they’re not.” he soothed her, holding her close and instinctively shielding her from Katniss’ impatient stare. “You’re safe, sweetheart, you’re _safe_.”

“I need to know!” Katniss insisted, completely disregarding the child in his arm – and why would she care, she had had next to no interaction with Safia at all. Peeta spent time with the girl but Katniss had a habit of dismissing her and looking through her as if she wasn’t there at all. “Did we kill those kids?” Safia was now wailing and it did _nothing_ for his headache. “Tell me, Haymitch! Did we kill them?!”

“Will you _shut up_ for _fuck_ ’s sake!” he snarled at her.

It stopped everything: Safia’s tears, Katniss’ relentless interrogation and Posy’s quiet but not very discreet inching toward the door.

Katniss’ face crumpled and then she was running.

“Wait!” he called. “Katniss, wait!”

But it was too late and with a kid firmly attached to his neck, he couldn’t run after her like he wanted to. Safia was trembling in his arms and Haymitch sighed, his eyes falling on Posy who was watching him with unprecedented wariness.

“Sweetheart…” he tried.

“I want my Mommy.” Posy declared.

“I want my Mommy too.” Safia echoed with wobbling lips.

He didn’t even have time to move a finger. He found himself with two wailing toddlers on his arms and no idea how to stop it. He tried to talk them through it but there was no reaching them and when Effie finally showed up, completely flabbergasted by what she walked in on, he was ready to tear his hair off his skull.

“What _in Panem_ happened?” she asked.

“I _fucked_ up.” he growled. “What else?”

He dropped the girls in her arms and ran out the door, calling Katniss’ name, knowing it was useless because she had had enough time to find a good hiding place.  He searched all her usual spots but came back empty handed. Hayden joined him after a couple of hours.

At midnight, they still hadn’t found Katniss and Haymitch reluctantly called the search off. She would come out when she felt like it, assuming she wasn’t high with morphling somewhere.

“They’ve got her addicted to the stuff.” he told Hayden as they were walking back to their rooms. “That won’t end well.”

“Does she still need it?” his brother frowned. “Is she still in pain or…”

“It’s a way for Coin to make sure she’s easier to control.” Haymitch muttered. “Politics. _Fucking_ politics.”

“Once Snow is dead, we can all leave.” Hayden reminded him, clasping his shoulder. “Once he’s dead, it’s over.”

“Is it?” he scoffed. “You’re not stupid enough to believe it, baby brother. What’s the point of killing a tyrant if we put another in his place?”

Hayden studied him for a second and then averted his eyes. “Do you have a plan?”

“Not yet.” he sighed.

“Would you tell me if you had a plan or would you keep me out just to protect me?” his brother insisted.

Haymitch hesitated and then shrugged. “We’re past that.”

Hayden nodded, seemingly satisfied.

He was careful not to make a noise when he sneaked inside the suite he shared with Effie, not particularly surprised to find the living-room and the couch where Safia usually slept empty and the girl in bed with his wife. He walked to the bathroom as silently as he could and spent a good ten minutes staring at his reflection, wondering why he always ultimately failed his kids: Hayden, Peeta, Finnick, Jo, Katniss… The list was endless.

In the end, he splashed cold water on his face and got into sweatpants and a tee-shirt, intending to go spend the night on the couch.

“Uncle Haymitch?” came the uncertain whisper as he was making his way from the bathroom to the bedroom door. He glanced at the bed. Effie was sound asleep, an arm firmly wrapped around her niece, but the child was staring at him, clutching her doll to her chest. She looked sad and hesitant. “Are you still angry?”

“I wasn’t…” he whispered back and then sighed. “I wasn’t angry with you, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have shouted. Sorry.”

She watched him for a moment and then patted the free space on her other side. The peace offering was fragile and he took it without thinking twice about it, lying down on his usual side of the bed, careful to leave some room between him and the kid who was snuggled against Effie.

“Did you find her?” Safia asked. “The weird looking girl.”

_The weird looking girl…_

He wondered if that was how Katniss would go down in the history books.

“No.” he shook his head. “Her name’s Katniss. She got hurt the same time you did, that’s why she looks funny.”

“Oh.” Safia said, stroking the recently healed scar on her wrist. “She looks sad.”

“She’s sad.” he agreed. “She lost people. Like you.”

“Oh.” the girl repeated and then frowned. “If she’s all alone, she should come with us… And you can protect her from the monsters too, like you do with me.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m scared of the bad dreams.”

“Is that why you’re still awake?” he asked, brushing her blond hair away from her face. “You should sleep, sweetheart. You’ve got your aunt and me right here, you’re as safe as can be.”

“And Katniss?” the little girl insisted. “Won’t she be scared of bad dreams if she’s all alone?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, so he didn’t. “Go to sleep.”

Safia fought hard against it but eventually fell asleep. He wasn’t that lucky. He tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about his kid huddled in a cupboard somewhere, until a hand grabbed his shoulder.

“There is nothing you can do for now.” Effie said, sleepy but stern. “Sleep a couple of hours and go look for her again.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re bossy.”

“That would be because you need a firm hand, Haymitch.” she smirked. “Sleep. Tomorrow will be a big, big, _big_ day…”

_The execution_.

That had almost slipped his mind.

“We’re heading toward disaster, Princess.” he sighed. “I can feel it in my bones.”

“Which is all the more reason for you _to get some rest_.” she retorted.

He didn’t manage to sleep and he slipped out of bed at the crack of dawn to go looking again.

In the end, Katniss came out of hiding of her own volition and Haymitch was left to try to coax her into eating something. He reluctantly gave her the medication and observed with bitterness that she was more eager to swallow the morphling tablets than any real food. He tried to get her to talk again but to no avail. He mentioned the City Circle bombings since she had apparently figured everything out but she closed off even more. At long last, he had someone draw her a bath and left her in the tub – not without making sure there was nothing in the bathroom she could hurt herself with, he was paranoid like that those days.

Effie was waiting for him in the Everdeen’s living-room part of their suite, a familiar clipboard in her hands, dolled up from head to toes in her old Capitol style. He wrinkled his nose at the golden wig on her head and the white powder on her face.

“What’s with the battle armor?” he asked.

“President Coin’s request.” she replied tersely, her irritation clearly perceptible. “I left Safia with your mother for the day, my attendance to the execution is apparently mandatory. I think our dear President is hoping Katniss’ arrow will miss Snow and hit _me_.”

He snorted and pressed a kiss on her lips. “I’ll shoot Coin first, Princess.”

“Treason talk.” she reminded him in a hiss.

“It’s supposed to be a free country.” he retorted.

“ _Supposed_ being the key word.” she muttered. “I need to prep Katniss, you are making me late.” She waved her clipboard. “We are on a schedule, you see?”

“Wouldn’t _dare_ putting you off schedule, sweetheart.” he smirked. “How _awful.”_

She pursed her lips but her amusement was perceptible. “Mocking a lady is neither here nor there… Why did I marry you again?”

“I’ll show you tonight.” he winked, walking past her and to the door.

He wanted to check on Peeta before the actual execution.

°O°O°O°

Effie shook her head at Haymitch’s retreating back, unable to get the smile off her lips. She walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door, not waiting for an answer before walking in – Katniss _never_ answered anymore.

“Hello, dear!” she said brightly. “It looks like we have a busy day ahead! We should get a move on or we will be late.”

“No prep team?” Katniss asked flatly as Effie carefully wrapped a towel around the girl’s body.

“I am afraid not.” she answered.

Katniss didn’t ask and she didn’t elaborate.

Prepping Katniss was more difficult than it ought to be. It wasn’t the first time she had helped the girl since her release from the hospital – her mother was elusive those days and very gifted at avoiding the escort – and Katniss didn’t seem to mind that very much but Effie was still wary of hurting her. Her grafted skin looked so fragile…

The wounds and scars weren’t so noticeable once she was wearing her Mockingjay battle suit and Effie did what she could with her hair – meaning she tried to braid it in a way that would cover most of her head but too many tresses ended up falling off the girl’s skull. Eventually, Katniss looked the part of the Mockingjay but the stare the girl was giving her reflection was no less than loathing.

“One last time, my dear.” Effie whispered encouragingly, placing her hands on her shoulders and watching her in the mirror. “Just one last time and we can all leave.”

Grey eyes fell on the diamond ring on the escort’s finger, almost longingly. “I have nowhere to go.”

“ _Of course_ you do.” she chided her. “Do you think Haymitch and I would leave you behind?” Katniss’ face remained blank, detached, her gaze was almost hollow. Effie pursed her lips. “Haymitch is wary that you think he cares less about you because Safia is taking a lot of his attention…”

“I don’t mind Safia. She’s a cute kid.” the girl replied mechanically. “I’m happy you found her, Effie. I just wish…”

Her sentence trailed off but Effie didn’t need to hear the words.

“I know, dear, I know.” she sighed. “But, _please_ , do not think you lost _everything_ or that you have no place in this world anymore… You will always have a place with us. You and Peeta… You are ours. _Mine_. My victors.” She gently hugged the girl from behind, careful not to squeeze too tight. Katniss’ fingers immediately coiled around her forearms but not to push her away, to _keep_ her there rather. “I am so proud of you, Katniss. _So_ proud. You did well. You freed Panem.”

“Did I?” the girl hummed with some bitterness.

Effie thought about Coin and the many conversations she, Hayden and Haymitch had shared on the subject. She thought about the cells she had been thrown back in if only for a night and the numerous friends – some less guilty than others – being executed on live TV.

Some days she could not see the difference between the old government and the new one.

She forced a bright smile on her lips and decided to say what Katniss needed to hear. “You _did_. You saved us all. I am sure your sister would have been as proud as I am today.”

Something flashed on the Mockingjay’s face, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint that looked like resignation and quickly morphed into determination.

Katniss lifted her chin up in her best defiant attitude.

Effie didn’t know if it was good or a bad sign.


	112. Chapter 112

“What happened to Enobaria?” Hayden frowned, as the remaining victors gathered around the room.

There were so many of them only a few months earlier, Haymitch thought, and now they were down to seven.

“Unclear.” he shrugged. “She was found dead in her cell.” He watched Annie and Peeta talking softly, Johanna staring at the ceiling, her feet propped on the table, Beetee tinkering with his tablet… “I don’t like this.”

Katniss was ushered inside the room and he liked it even less.

It was nothing compared to when Coin showed up, asking them all to take a seat. While she explained her idea of brand new Hunger Games featuring Capitol children, Haymitch stared at his lukewarm cup of tea, trying to ignore Hayden’s insistent staring and Katniss’ fidgeting with a white rose that she had found who knew where.

The votes themselves weren’t a surprise. Peeta was the first to say no, followed by Johanna’s yes and Annie’s and Beetee’s firm no.

One in favor, three against.

Eyes turn to Katniss.

She didn’t answer at once. She was staring at the rose, turning it this way and that.

“I vote yes…” she finally said. “For Prim.”

Her grey eyes snapped to his then and Haymitch’s heart broke in his chest. They were alike on so many levels, _so much_ alike….

They watched each other for a moment without saying anything. Peeta was talking, _ranting_ about the atrocities he would be responsible for if he followed that path but Haymitch barely heard a word of it.

They were too much alike and Katniss had somehow figured out who dropped those bombs. Prim’s death needed to be avenged like he would have avenged Hayden’s, the rest of her family – adopted and otherwise – needed to be protected like he would have protected his own, and beyond that there was the bigger picture. Hadn’t he been trying to find a way to get rid of Coin for weeks now?

This wasn’t about the Games.

This wasn’t even about Snow or Coin.

This was about him and Katniss, the need to reassure and promise that he would be with her until the very end of the line, that he would stand by her regardless of her choices, and that he supported her in her decision. Someone needed to do the ugly work. And that someone, in this instance, could only be her.

This was about him saying _‘I trust you’._

“I’m with the Mockingjay.” he declared.

Peeta erupted in accusations and warnings but he went ignored. Katniss looked back down at her rose and Haymitch’s heart started racing with the implications of what he had just done.

“Soldier Abernathy, it’s up to you.” Coin said, riveting her milky stare on Hayden.

His brother had been strangely quiet until then. He was watching Haymitch with the same acute attention Haymitch had been giving Katniss.

“You’ve got a Capitol kid.” Hayden reminded him.  

“Since her guardians are both known rebels…” Coin cut in, looking like she had swallowed a sour lemon at the thought of Effie being a rebel. “It goes without saying that immunity would be extended to the child. Your answer, Abernathy.”

It was Hayden’s turn to be lectured by Peeta who, clearly, didn’t understand his hesitation.

_Do you have a plan?_

_Not yet._

_Would you tell  me if you had a plan or would you keep me out just to protect me?_

_We’re past that._

He wondered if Hayden was thinking back to that conversation too. He didn’t try to hide away from his brother’s stare.

It didn’t matter much what Hayden would answer in the end. If his suspicions about what Katniss was about to do were correct – and they _were_ correct, he was certain of it – it wouldn’t matter one way or another. However, just like his own answer hadn’t simply been a “yes” or a “no” to an open question, Hayden’s was charged with implications.

Katniss would go through with her crazy plan because Haymitch supported her.

Haymitch would stand by Katniss regardless of his brother’s answer but… It would have been nice to have his trust.

There was so much bad blood between them… Even now, after they had patched up most of their relationship… He wasn’t sure his brother had any faith in him.

Hayden’s eyes briefly darted to Katniss who was still playing absent-mindedly with her flower and then back to him. Hayden didn’t know Katniss like _he_ did but he knew _Haymitch_ and he knew the two of them shared uncanny similarities.

“Yes.” his brother finally said, his eyes looking straight into his.

Haymitch let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. He didn’t nod or acknowledge that anything special had happened but he breathed a little more easily despite Peeta’s angry words.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” his brother said as they were leaving the room.

“I have faith in my girl.” he replied and they left it at that.

°O°O°O°

The second the victors spilled from the room, Effie knew something bad had happened.

Peeta stormed away, closely followed by Annie and Beetee. Johanna grabbed Haymitch before she could and dragged him away ranting about _making stupid choices_ while Plutarch – who had been until then waiting with her in the corridor – swooped down on Katniss for last minute instructions. Effie was supposed to make sure the Mockingjay looked perfect but she latched on Hayden’s arm instead.

“What happened?” she frowned.

He gave a wary look around and steered her away from where Plutarch and Katniss were standing, dropping his voice as low as it would go. “What we always knew would happen. She asked for a vote about new Games.”

“With Capitols.” she clarified, her stomach churning. But hope quickly took over. “A vote, you say? She made the surviving victors vote? It is not happening then.”

She breathed out in relief. She would never have to fear for Safia or herself. This time it was over and…

“There were four yes and three no.” Hayden winced, ill-at-ease. “But, Effie…”

“Four yes?” she repeated coldly, the implications slowly dawning on her. “You are mistaken. _Who_ would have voted yes? Oh, Johanna, naturally… But other than her, nobody would have voted yes. Peeta certainly didn’t. And I can’t imagine Annie or Beetee condoning this.” She laughed a high-pitched laugh that was a tad on the hysterical side. “See, you are mistaken.”

“Katniss voted yes too.” he told her, rubbing his face. “Effie…”

“Fine.” she interrupted him again. “ _Fine_ , Katniss said yes. It makes two and it leaves you and Haymitch and neither of you would have… Neither of you would have…” Tears burned her eyes but she hastily blinked them away. “ _Haymitch_ would _never_ vote yes.”

“He did.” Hayden breathed out. “And I followed.”

She touched her face, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. _Her husband_ and _her best friend_ had just approved of new Hunger Games _._ She felt like throwing up and punching a wall and huddling in a tight ball and screaming until her throat was hoarse. The feeling of betrayal was sharp, like the stab of a knife, and she thought she would gladly go through another batch of torture rather than feeling like _this_.

“Listen to me…” Hayden said with some urgency, grabbing her shoulder.

She shrugged his hand off. “ _Don’t_ _touch me_.”

Hayden wasn’t so easily deterred though, he forced her closer despite her struggling until he had her locked into a forceful hug.

“ _Listen_ to me.” he hissed in her ear. “Haymitch has a plan, alright? I don’t know what it is but I know him. I _know_ him, Effie. He said yes so Katniss would know he’s game with whatever she’s planning to do. I know my brother. I know what this was. It will be fine, Effie. It will be _fine_.”

She wondered who he was trying to convince. Her or him?

“Why did you vote yes then?” she murmured.

“To let him know I am with him.” he simply replied in a whisper, as if it was obvious. “I think we’re taking the bitch down.”

“Language.” she chided him, stepping back to look at him in the eyes. Plutarch was calling her to put some more powder on Katniss’ face. “I hope you are right. For all of our sakes, I _hope_ you are right.”

Hayden nodded at her, squeezed her hand and went in the direction the other victors had taken.

Effie was left alone with Katniss while everyone took their place outside. The entrance of the Mockingjay would be grand – as it should be.

Effie’s heart was racing in her chest and her fingers were tingling. She could feel the panic attack coming but she swallowed it down, forced herself to focus on her charge and fuss over her in a way Katniss probably thought more annoying than endearing.

She didn’t know what would happen but she knew it would be dangerous. It _had_ to be if Haymitch was willing to risk more children being sent to their death. She gave in to the urge of grabbing the girl right when the cheers indicated Coin had taken her place on the balcony.

She hugged Katniss close to her chest, forgetting about skin grafts and the need to be careful.

“Whatever you are about to do, I _beg_ of you, _stay alive_.” she whispered against her ear. “I _do_ love you like my own, Katniss.”

A soft smile briefly played on her victor’s lips. “I love you too.”

_That_ in itself should have been a testament that the girl didn’t expect to come back.

It was too late for Effie to do anything though. Too late to stop this, whatever it was.

Katniss marched out under the roar of the crowd.

Two minutes later, Coin fell from the balcony. _Dead_.

And all hell break loose.

Effie was pushed back inside the Presidential Mansion by soldiers and led to a room in which she was left to pace without news, listening to the sounds of gunshots and the deafening roar of an angry mob. Soon – but it felt like _hours_ – Annie, Hayden, Beetee and Johanna were introduced in the room. They had been evacuated and had no other news other than the fact Peeta had jumped in to reach Katniss. Haymitch had followed like the stupid man he was.

She was still angry and partly resentful with Hayden because of the vote he had chosen to cast but she let him hold her hand anyway because she needed the support.

Eventually, Peeta was brought to the room too, looking worse for the wear.

“Katniss’ alive but they took her in custody.” he said. “Haymitch’s dealing with everything.”

There was a collective sigh of relief.

It was a long time before they were allowed back to their respective room and asked, for now, to stick to them. Peeta remained with her and Effie glared at the soldier when he stammered about orders and procedures. The boy actually looked amused for a second but that might have had to do with Safia who absolutely wanted him to let her attend to his bleeding hand. She fancied herself a nurse that night, Iris said, before hugging her goodnight, patting Peeta’s shoulder and making her way to her own room – to the soldier’s obvious relief.

Safia and Peeta had both long succumbed to sleep by the time Haymitch crept back in. Effie was standing by the window, watching without seeing.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“They’re going to put her on trial.” he said finally. “They locked her up. Solitary confinement. They’re going to sever her up from the morphling.” He remained silent for a beat and then licked his lips. “She’s on suicide watch.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against the cold glass of the window. “Any good news?”

“Yeah, we can plead insanity.” he deadpanned.

“You let her do this.” she hissed. “You put _our_ girl in danger. You…”

“What did you want me to do?” he cut her off. “Warn them she was about to murder Coin? So they could lock her up earlier?”

“You voted yes.” she spat. “After _everything_ we went through, all the death, all the… _You_ voted _yes_.”

Her voice broke in the middle and she turned her head away.

“The boy told you.” he winced.

“ _Your_ _brother_ told me.” she corrected. “After _everything_ , Haymitch, how…”

“Because it was the only way to end this.” he said, almost begging her to understand. “Stand with Katniss. Give her permission. It was the _only_ way. It’s fine, nothing like that will happen now. Coin’s gone. We have a council meeting in the morning and we’re going to put Paylor in charge. She will organize elections and I’m pretty sure _she_ will get elected. Everything is fine. _Now_ the war’s over.”

“Nothing is ever simply _over_.” she sighed. “You taught me that.”

He was wary when he walked closer but she didn’t push him away. He placed his hands on her shoulders and when she didn’t shrug them off, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss on her neck.

“We’ll have to win this trial.” he conceded. “But then we can all go far away from this _fucking_ city.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against him.

She prayed he was right.


	113. Chapter 113

“I’m home!” Haymitch warned, tossing his keys in the bowl next to the door and sliding the bolt right behind him. He had never been in a habit to shout when he entered his own place but Effie tended to startle when he did so too quietly and it triggered panic attacks they could both do without.

In the two months since Coin’s murder they had become so domestic it was almost scary.

Moving out of the Presidential Mansion had been the first but necessary step. With Johanna and Annie leaving for Four, Peeta being moved to a small private clinic to better learn how to deal with his episodes and Paylor taking over, it had been a breath of fresh air to move into Effie’s apartment – _their_ apartment – even if it had taken a lot of hard work on his and Hayden’s parts to make it livable again. The damages had been extensive and the repairs had taken time. It was nice now. _Homey_. And it was made even better by the fact his brother, the Hawthornes and his mother had claimed the abandoned apartments just next to them. Haymitch wasn’t constantly worried about them and they all had their independence.

Paddling of little feet on the carpet floor hurried over and he automatically opened his arms to grab the girl who flung herself at him. Safia may have been a perfect little lady before all this but Posy’s wild behavior was contagious. He received her kiss on the cheek with a smile and put her down when she requested it – apparently she had more urgent business to attend to than talking to him, she just wanted to say hello because it was _polite_. He let her scamper to the living-room where, no doubt, her toys were scattered everywhere and he wandered to the dining-room in search of Effie.

The dining-room had been more or less transformed into a battle room concerning Katniss’ trial. There were papers and books everywhere, plans for her defense and drafts of speeches for crucial witnesses. It wasn’t uncommon for him to find Plutarch, Hayden, Effie and Gale gathered in there – Peeta too when he was allowed out of the clinic. Since he had just left the Gamemaker at the Justice Building though, he knew it would more likely be only his wife and his brother and, just as he had thought, he found Hayden and Effie sitting in front of steaming mugs of tea.

He clasped his brother on the shoulder and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

“Did you watch today?” he asked.

Stupid question of course. When they weren’t at the courthouse with him, they always watched the live feed. The trial was dragging and dragging…

“I liked Plutarch’s speech.” Hayden offered.

“Thank you. It was mine.” Effie replied, wrapping her hands around her mug and flashing Haymitch a smile when he took the chair next to her. “Did you go to the Training Center?”

“Yeah.” he sighed. “She didn’t try to kill herself today.” His voice was laced with bitter sarcasm. Katniss wasn’t doing as good as he would have liked and the isolation wasn’t helping. He was negotiating hard to be allowed to see her but was denied at every turn. The most they could obtain was access to the camera monitors in her room. It was worse in a way to watch her wasting away in that room and not being able to reach out and comfort her. “I think she’s done with withdrawals for good now though. She started humming this morning.”

“That’s good.” Hayden commented with forced cheer. “It’s a good sign.”

“Yeah, maybe.” he shrugged.

Effie reached out and covered his hand with hers. “She will be alright. As soon as we can get her out of there and back with us, she will be alright.”

“About that…” Hayden cleared his throat. “Aster came to see me yesterday.”

Effie’s eyes immediately hardened and there was growl in her voice when she talked. “ _Please_ , don’t say what I think you are about to say.”

Hayden winced. “She’s already gone.”

“ _Oh_!” she hissed. “I will…”

“You will do _nothing_.” Haymitch interrupted her, rubbing his eyes. “We saw it coming. It’s fine. Plan B, right? We’ll ask for custody.” It would have been _easier_ if Katniss’ mother hadn’t took off but it wasn’t like she was overly present or invested in the trial. All she did was work, it kept her grief at bay. “It’s fine.”

“ _Fine_.” Effie spat. “This woman just deserted her child. A child who needs her now more than _ever_. And you think this is _fine_?”

“I think nobody in here has a lot of room to judge anyone else.” he retorted, snatching her mug of tea from her hand to take a sip. Then he rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe Hayden does.”

Hayden didn’t add to their escort’s fire though. Effie’s resentment and anger for Aster Everdeen had been steadily growing ever since Katniss had been released from the hospital after the bombings.

“She gave me this.” his brother said, sliding two envelopes on the table.

One had Haymitch’s name on it and the other was clearly meant for Katniss. He pocketed that one and opened the other. It didn’t take him long to read it and when he finished, he shrugged and handed it over. There was nothing surprising in that letter, it was a request for forgiveness and a plea for Haymitch to do what she wasn’t able to.

Effie skimmed it and passed it to Hayden who didn’t even bother.

“She’s trying to deal.” his brother ventured cautiously. “I don’t think…”

“She is responsible for this child. She _gave birth_ to this child.” Effie snapped. “How is it that everyone finds it normal that _I_ am more invested in Katniss’ life than her own mother is? This is _not_ right! Aster should simply think about Katniss and put her needs before her own. _That_ is how you take care of a child. That…”

“You’ve had one full time for three months and you’re an expert now?” Haymitch scoffed. “Come on, sweetheart… I know you’re angry but…”

“I am not angry I am _furious_.” she retorted. “She doesn’t deserve Katniss.”

He exchanged a glance with his brother as Effie folded her arms in front of her chest, an angry sulk on her face. She looked so much like a child, like the spoiled brat she used to be sometimes… Haymitch smirked and Hayden’s lips twitched, clearly on the same line of thoughts.

“In other news…” his brother said, after clearing his throat once more. “Paylor finally unlocked funds for Twelve’s rebuilding. The first hundreds of volunteers are ready to go back. Departure is due at the end of the week. They’re giving us two trains for transports of people and materials.”

“Hayden, that is _tremendous_ news!” Effie exclaimed, her previous irritation forgotten. “You’ve been working so hard… I’m so proud of you!” 

She bolted out of her chair to wrap her arms around Hayden’s neck. Hayden _had_ been working his butt off on this rebuilding project and fighting for it like a true politician.

“Good job, baby brother.” Haymitch offered, reaching out to clasp his shoulder over his wife’s tight embrace.

“Thanks.” his brother grinned, the tip of ears growing red under the praises. “It was a wild ride but… Can’t say I’m not happy.”

“You did a wonderful job.” Effie beamed, pressing a kiss on his cheek before sitting back and stealing her mug back from Haymitch’s hands with a pointed look. “Go make your own.”

“ _Such_ a loving wife.” he snorted. She lifted an eyebrow and he smirked, knowing she was joking – _mostly_. He was so focused on pushing her buttons that he almost missed the telltale flash of guilt on his brother’s face. _Almost_. “What now?”

He could feel the other shoe about to drop.

Hayden’s grey eyes darted from Effie to Haymitch and then he sighed. “Alright, you’re not going to like this…”

Effie frowned. “It cannot be worse than Aster Everdeen deserting us.”

Hayden made a face and turned to him. “Look, Haymitch, I tried to talk her out of it…”

“Tried to talk who out of what?” he growled, _indeed_ not liking the sound of that.

His brother winced, turning his mug one way and then the other on the table. “Mama is dead set on going back to Twelve.”

“ _What_?” he shouted, loud enough to be heard three apartments down the corridor probably.

“Uncle Haymitch?” Safia called from the living-room.

“Everything is fine, darling!” Effie piped back in a sing-song voice. “Don’t you worry!” She elbowed him firmly. “Mind your voice.”

He ignored her, glaring at his brother instead. “What do you mean she’s dead set on going back? She’s _not_ going back, end of the story. That’s _stupid_. Twelve’s in ruins.”

“And she insists Twelve is her home…” Hayden shrugged, lifting his hands helplessly. “I _tried_ , Haymitch. But Sae’s going back…”

“She’s not in any state to help rebuilding anything.” he scoffed. “What would she even _do_ there?”

“We aren’t looking only for workers.” his brother frowned. “Rebuilding is also about repopulating so… That’s not really the issue here.”

“No, the issue is that she has a _fucking_ heart condition and she’s not going back there where there are no doctors, no clinics and no equipment.” he spat. “You told her that?”

Effie cleared her throat. “Thirteen is only a few hours away in case of emergency… And I am certain President Paylor will make sure doctors are present in Twelve during rebuilding, won’t she?”

“Yeah, that’s part of the agreement.” Hayden confirmed.

Haymitch glared at both of them in turn, his anger quickly escalating. “So what? You’re both _on board_ with _that?”_

_“_ I am not on board with anything, Haymitch.” she replied. “I simply think it is not your choice to make.”

“For what it’s worth…” Hayden cut in before he could start yelling again – something he had fully been intending on doing. “I really tried to tell her she would be happier with you and Effie in Four.”

“Of course, she would be happier with…” he started snarling, annoyed with their mother, only to abruptly stop. “What do you mean _you and Effie_? Why _you and Effie_? You mean _us_. You mean _us_ ‘cause you’re coming to Four.” His brother made a face and Haymitch slammed his fist on the table. “ _For fuck’s sake, Hayden!”_

“Haymitch, calm down.” Effie ordered. “You will frighten Safia again.”

He shot her a dark look but he did lower his voice – for Safia and for Safia alone. “You’re coming to Four, Hayden.”

“Will you leave him a chance to explain?” she chided him. “I don’t understand, Hayden. We had an agreement…”

“Twelve’s refugees got together and asked me to be their acting mayor until we can have proper elections.” he declared. “And I said yes. I’m leaving for Twelve with those willing to go back.”

Haymitch shook his head and ran a hand on his face. “Why are you doing this? Is it like… payback or some _shit_? We want Four. We _agreed_ on Four. We can finally be a real family again…”

“I’m doing this because… _I like it_.” his brother snapped. “I have a purpose. I help people. What I do _matters_.”

“But we had plans!” he countered.

“No, Haymitch, _you_ had plans. As usual.” Hayden accused before softening his voice. “And… You don’t need _me_ in Four. You have Effie and Safia, Katniss and Peeta will come with you… You _have_ your family. And _you’ve got me_. I’ll come visit. But I need to do my own thing. And… Yeah, I _really_ want to do this. I want to help. I want to do something with my life.”

“What about Hazelle?” Effie asked, her tone painfully neutral. “Is she alright with going back to Twelve?”

“Hazelle’s leaving for Two with Gale as soon as the trial’s over.” Hayden snorted a little bitterly. “Gale’s got a fancy job offer there. He said yes. She decided to follow.”

“So you’re moving to the other end of the country?” Haymitch mocked. “That’s your brilliant plan? This is just you sulking because she won’t come to Four with us?”

“No, it’s not. And not that it’s any of your business either but I asked her to marry me and she said no.” his brother retorted. “She doesn’t know what she wants, Haymitch. She doesn’t know… Look, we’re not broken up or anything but… She feels she needs to be with Gale in Two and I feel I need to be in Twelve so… We’re going to do this day by day for now.”

“Yeah, and what about the kids, then?” he scowled. “You’re taking off just like that? Just like our _shitty_ piece of father did?”

“Haymitch, _enough_.” Effie warned.

Hayden didn’t storm out or visibly showed his fury but Haymitch could feel it bubbling from where he was sitting. “I’m not _leaving_ them. She needs space to figure out what she wants, I’m giving her space. I love her. I love them. We’re all very clear on my feelings.” His brother stopped talking and licked his lips, standing a little straighter with this newly acquired confidence found some time in the last year. “Besides, Haymitch… Four is your dream. I wasn’t against it because I had nothing else in sight. But Four is _your_ dream. Go live it. My life’s mine and I’m done dancing to the tune you’re singing.”

“All I did, I did to protect you.” Haymitch growled. “I thought _we_ were clear on _that_.”

“You protected me. I’m grateful for that. Sort of.” Hayden stated. “I’m safe now. And it’s _my_ life.”

“It’s not supposed to go down like this.” he argued. “We fought this war, we’re supposed to all be _together_. We _earned_ that. _I_ earned that. Not you and Mama in Twelve and us at the other end of the _fucking_ country!”

He stood up and stormed out but not quickly enough not to hear Effie sighing “He’ll calm down” to his brother. It annoyed him even more that she always seemed to take his side in those kind of arguments. He went into the living-room and sat on the rug next to Safia who had made a great job of colonizing the room with cubes. She was building a megalopolis or something.

“Are you mad?” she frowned.

“Yeah.” he grumbled before shooting the kid a guilty look. “Not at you, though.”

Apparently, she hadn’t really been worried about that because she handed him one of her cubes. “Play with me?”

That was how he found himself on all four, trapped in a city made of cubes – and _how many_ of those did she have? – with a giggling child who wanted the cube tower to go higher and _higher._ It was a long time before he heard the front door open and close – Hayden leaving, he figured – and it was even longer before Effie appeared on the living-room threshold, regarding the surrounding chaos with a cringe.

“We’ll make an architect out of her.” he declared proudly.

“I want to be an escort like Aunt Effie.” Safia pouted.

That comment made them both wince.

“It is time for your bath, darling.” Effie said, in a hurry to dispel any awkwardness.

“Already?” he smirked innocently. “Are you going to wash my back or my front today, sweetheart?”

He was treated to a glare. “Keep your corny jokes far from my niece’s ears, Haymitch.” She walked around the cube houses and buildings to hold out her hand to the kid. She placed her free one on his shoulder and he covered it with his. “Go talk to them. And _listen_ , this time.” She squeezed once. “I know it’s not what you wanted but he is a grown man and he just did something that deserves praises not…” She sighed. “Be _his brother_ , Haymitch, be proud of him, _support_ him.”

“I _am_ proud of him.” he mumbled, piling more of Safia’s cubes on top of their tower. “That’s not the problem.”

“There is _no_ problem aside from those you are creating.” she replied. “He loves you and he needs you. But he doesn’t need you to take decisions for him. He _never_ needed that. I thought you had finally understood. Come on, Safia.”

She left without a backward glance, irritated by his behavior probably. Haymitch was too, a little, because he could feel himself slipping back into old habits. But the idea of Hayden at the other end of the country… It was _unthinkable_. Not seeing his family everyday… 

The cube tower collapsed and, with a sigh, he stood up and made his way to his family’s apartment. He didn’t bother knocking, not surprised to find the door unlocked. He followed the enticing smell to the kitchen where his mother was clearly busy making an apple pie for dessert. Stew was cooking on the stove. The setting wasn’t familiar but the sight was.

“Haymitch!” Iris smiled when she saw him. She was sitting at the central island, cutting apples in even pieces. “That’s a nice surprise. Do you need me to take Safia tonight? You and Effie need some moments alone sometimes. A young child can be overwhelming for a couple…”

“How are you planning on babysitting all the way from Twelve?” he snapped before he could help himself.

She lost her smile. “Hayden told you.”

“Yeah.” he spat, hauling himself on one of the stools next to her. “Great _fucking_ news.” 

She clicked her tongue. “I swear I raised you better than this. Mind your language.”

“Where’s he?” he grumbled, grabbing an apple and a knife and automatically setting to work.

“He popped in to say he was going over to Hazelle’s.” she explained. “Did he tell you about that too? Shame, if you ask me. I love her, I swear, but does she think she is too good for my boy?” Iris made a disgruntled sound. “Your Effie is sensible at least. She didn’t need any chasing around.”

“Cause you missed that part, that’s all.” he snorted. “Did plenty of chasing of my own.”

They worked in silence for a moment. When he was done with his apple, she handed him another.

“You didn’t shout yet. I’m impressed.” she teased. “I thought you would throw a tantrum.”

“Yeah, you missed that too.” he shrugged.

She studied him but he didn’t look up at her. Eventually, she placed her hand on his, stopping his clumsy attempt at peeling the apple’s skin off.

“You’re not happy about this.” she said.

He toyed around what he wanted to say and what he couldn’t truly express. Then he figured there had been enough secrets and truth wouldn’t hurt for a change. “I don’t want to go back to Twelve.”

“Nobody asked that of you, Haymitch.” she sighed. “I know you want that house in Four. You and Effie can hardly shut up about it. It is alright to want that.”

“But I can’t have it if you and Hayden are in Twelve.” he argued. “If you go back…”

“Twelve is my home.” she cut him off. “It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s where I was born and where I want to die – hopefully not for a very long time.” She let out a long breath, bringing the hand covering his to his cheek. “It doesn’t mean you have to do the same. Children leave the nest at some point, that’s _natural_.”

“We’re family.” he grumbled.

“Yes, and we always will be.” Iris promised with a small smile. “In Four, in the Capitol, in Twelve or in Two… It doesn’t matter where we are or where we live. We will _always_ be family.” She patted his cheek gently and then went back to cutting her apple. “You have one of your own now. _That_ is the family you should strive to protect, not _us_. Hayden and I can take care of ourselves.”

“You’re my responsibility.” he whispered, a lump in his throat.

“No, darling.” she countered softly. “I am your _mother_. Hayden is your _bother_ , if anyone’s responsible for him it should be me and, really, he’s old enough to be responsible for himself.” He tried to protest but she wasn’t done. “ _Safia_ is your responsibility. _Katniss_ and _Peeta_ are your responsibility. _Effie_ is your responsibility.” Her voice remained firm even though she was clearly trying to be gentle. “We are your family but you have a family of your own now. And that’s a _great_ thing, Haymitch. Go to Four, take them there. Build your dream house. Get the fresh start you want so much. Don’t worry about us, we will be alright. You sacrificed _enough_.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” he snarled defensively, on the verge of running for it.

“I know.” she granted. “Although you should know…”

“Mama.” he cut her off, hopping to his feet.

“Alright, alright…” she said quickly, lifting her hands in a peace offering. “I just hope you know I love you, that’s all. Now sit back down and help me get this pie ready.”

He reluctantly did as he was told until the front door slammed shut a little while later and his mother muttered about boys who could _never_ close doors _properly_ … He looked up a little anxiously when Hayden came in. His brother briefly paused when he saw him and then sat on the island across from him.

“Going to say _sorry_ or what?” Hayden asked in a neutral tone.

“Shut up and help us bake.” Haymitch snorted. “Won’t get Mama’s apple pie any time soon with you both going to Twelve and all…”

Neither his brother nor his mother commented but they both exchanged a look and a smile. It wasn’t long before Effie wandered in, followed by a little girl in pink pajamas who jumped on his lap and rubbed her eyes.

“I’m hungry, Iris!” Safia complained.

“Good thing the stew is ready then, little one.” Iris laughed. “How about you have a sleepover with Hayden and me tonight?”

“It’s okay, Mama.” Haymitch replied. “We can all eat together. Right?” The question was directed at Effie who simply nodded with a gracious smile.

In a matter of minutes, the kitchen was full of joyful chatter and easy banter. Haymitch watched Effie and Hayden joke and laugh together with Iris piping in from time to time. He watched his mother help Safia cut her meat and Hayden request a high five every time he managed to get the last word with him only for the little girl to cluck her tongue and remind him that high fives weren’t polite and even less so at the dinner table. He watched Effie chuckle in her napkin at his brother’s dismay until tears pool in her eyes from the effort she made to restrain her hilarity…

He watched his family and he thought this was a happy moment. Those were the kind of moments that he wanted for the rest of his life.

Later, after he had carried a sleeping Safia back to her horrifying pink bedroom and he had climbed into his own bed next to Effie, he let out a deep sigh. “I wanted this.”

“I know…” Effie offered, snuggling against his side and resting her head on his shoulder. “I know you hate the idea of your family being so far away from you.”

“Yeah. I do.” he admitted. “But… You’ve all got a point… Mama won’t be alone so… There’s that. And Hayden’s got to live his life at some point… And we’ve got ours to live too.” He coiled his hand around her nape, letting his thumb run up and down the side of her neck. “I want Four, sweetheart. I want our house. It won’t be really complete without them, true, but… If I’ve got you and the kids and if I know Mama and Hayden are safe and happy… It’s more than I ever thought I would have. I think it will be enough.”

She dropped a kiss on his shoulder. “You are being so _mature_ right now...”

“Does it turn you on?” he snorted.

She lifted a challenging eyebrow.

It seemed maturity _did_ turn her on because she rewarded him with his favorite tricks.

The week went too quickly despite the still dragging trial though.

Sooner than he’d have liked, he found himself on a platform station, watching people climbing into a train and more people loading supplies into some of the cars…

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” he cringed as his mother tried to reason with Safia whose lips were wobbling like crazy. He supposed he should be grateful the kid wasn’t wailing like Posy was. “You can still change your mind, Mama…”

“I am absolutely certain.” Iris answered, patting Safia’s head and moving on to hug Effie. “You take good care of my boy, dear.”

“I always do.” Effie promised.

His mother felt so frail in his arms when he embraced her. He didn’t say anything, he just held her and wondered if he would be brave enough to let go. Above her shoulder he could see Hayden finally managing to convince Posy to let go of his leg. Gale took her and the rest of the kids further away, clasping Hayden’s shoulder one last time. He didn’t remember if he had ever seen Hayden kiss Hazelle like that in public before but there was no mistaking the tears in his friend’s eyes. They exchanged a few words and another kiss and then Hayden was next to him, hugging Effie.

“You keep my brother out of trouble, yeah?” Hayden told her. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Effie answered, her voice breaking a little. With Johanna and Annie gone, she didn’t have many friends left in the city. “Call me as soon as the lines are restored.”

“I will.” Hayden said, pressing a kiss on her cheek before lifting Safia up. “Be good for Aunt Effie and Uncle Haymitch, alright? I’ll see you soon.”

“How soon?” Safia pouted. “What if you go to sleep and never wake up like Mother and Father?”

Haymitch let go of their mother, leaving to Effie the task of soothing her niece’s worries. Iris embraced Hazelle and Haymitch found himself face to face with his brother. He was strongly reminded of sending him off to war.

“Don’t be a stranger, baby brother.” he told him.

“Right back at you.” Hayden snorted, pulling him into a bear hug. “Phones will be a priority. I’ll call.”

“You better.” he scoffed, stepping back to clasp his shoulder. “Take care of Mama.”

His brother nodded.

Watching the both of them climb on that train was awful. Safia was clinging to his and Effie’s hands, probably unsure that _they_ wouldn’t leave _her_. Next to him, Hazelle swallowed back a sob and hurriedly wiped her eyes.

“Told you not to break his heart.” he growled, as the engine slowly flared to life.

“I’m not trying to break his heart.” she retorted. “I’m trying to do the best thing for my kids.”

“No, you’re not.” Effie commented flatly. “You are scared and you are taking the easy way out.”

“I can’t let my son go to Two and move across the country.” Hazelle snapped. “Twelve isn’t a place for kids. I don’t see you bringing your niece there.”

“I spent enough years watching my husband leave on that train.” she retorted. “Trust me, that won’t happen again. You will soon see how unbearable it is.”

She walked away, dragging Safia with her.

Haymitch followed after them, but not before tossing Hazelle a warning look. “Being apart like that… It sucks. Won’t help you figure anything out.”

He would know.


	114. Chapter 114

Effie turned the TV off in a daze.

“Is it over for today?” Safia asked, looking up from where she was having a tea party with her dolls.

“It is over for good.” Effie heard herself say, the empty cup of pretend tea forgotten in her hands. “The trial is over. We won.”

“Katniss is going to live with us now?” her niece said, neither cheerful nor sad. She had yet to make a real impression of Katniss. They were talking so much about the girl that she had become a sort of mythical figure to Safia but as long as she wasn’t expected to share her bedroom, she had declared herself alright with having another housemate around. Her only worry was to know if Katniss liked tea parties – and Effie had decided early on she would let their Mockingjay answer that question.

“We should start tidying up your toys, darling.” she declared, blinking quickly, still stunned by the judge’s ruling. “The house is a mess.”

When in chaos, Effie’s remedy was always order. Safia wasn’t exactly happy about the bout of cleaning but she trudged along willingly enough, standing there with her doll and watching her aunt get lost in the tedious process of straightening cushions, hoovering the whole apartment and very much trying to drown her thoughts in _activity._

Effie kept waiting for Haymitch to come home but he never did. She gave Safia her bath, she helped her into her pajamas and unfroze one of the dishes Iris had stocked the freezer with… They watched a movie and when Safia fell asleep on the couch, she carried her to bed. She lingered in the living-room for a long time but when it grew late, she gave up and got ready for bed.

She tossed and turned, staring at the bedroom wall in the soft glow of the lamp she still couldn’t sleep without. The bed felt huge and cold and she curled up on herself, trying to imagine his warmth behind her.

After an hour, she almost gave up and got up to call Hayden or Johanna, someone she could talk to and who would _understand_ … But just as she was about to leave the warm sheets, she heard the key unlocking the front door. The metallic sound echoed throughout the apartment. She heard the familiar noise of the keychain being carelessly tossed in the bowl next to the door and then footsteps that were trying to be discreet. He moved around the kitchen and the living-room, then she couldn’t hear anything anymore but she saw his silhouette on the balcony through the sliding doors.

She grabbed the sweater he had discarded on the stool of her dressing table at some point and wrapped herself in it before stepping out. He glanced over his shoulder, not particularly surprised to see her there.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” he mumbled.

“I wasn’t asleep.” she breathed out. “You weren’t coming back, I thought… I thought maybe…”

She had thought they may have put him on a hovercraft already, without giving him leave to get ready first. That was something the rebels would do. That was something _Paylor_ would do to secure the fragile peace.

“Tomorrow morning.” he spat. “I’m picking her up at the Training Center, up to the roof and straight to hell. You can’t see her, I asked. They want us out of here as quickly as possible. Avoid incidents.” He shook his head and leaned his arms on the stone railing, bowing his head. “Thought you would be more upset.”

“I am upset.” she confessed. “I am so, _so_ very upset…”

Her voice broke and she averted her eyes, turning her head away so he wouldn’t be able to see the tears blurring her sight.

“Didn’t have a choice.” he explained, almost begging her to understand. “It was seclusion in Twelve or prison here. I thought…”

“You made the right choice.” she told him. “You made the _only_ choice.”

And she knew what it would cost him to go back to his District. He felt responsible for the destruction and the deaths. He had no real good memories there. It belonged to his past and not to his future. His future…

“Haymitch…” she whispered.

“I know.” he cut her off. “ _Fuck,_ Effie. I know.”

She couldn’t go with him.

How bitterly ironical her words to Hazelle seemed now…

Twelve wasn’t a place for children. Hayden and Iris had been back there for only two weeks but the things he had told her when the phones were finally functioning again… People whose houses had been destroyed had colonized the Village and it was uncanny how _untouched_ everything was there. They even got _TV_. But outside of the iron gates… There were corpses everywhere, charred skeletons, dislocated bones…

It wasn’t a place for a child.

Not for now at least.

“One of us should stay with Peeta anyway.” he scowled. “In a few months…” She took a sharp painful breath and he stopped talking to bury his face in his hands. “We can do this, yeah? We did it before. We _can_ do it.”

“I thought we were done saying goodbye to each other.” she confessed and there was no hiding the pain or the tears in her eyes this time. “We _vowed…_ We…”

He reached out and tugged her into his embrace. She went willingly, clinging to him like a drowning woman. She didn’t know how she could cope without him. Hazelle and Gale would leave. She would be left _alone_. Alone with her fears and her flashbacks and a traumatized little girl to take care of… 

And _that_ wasn’t the worst, _that_ she could probably handle…

But saying goodbye to Haymitch for _who knew how long_ after _everything_ they had been through to get the right to never be parted again? 

“Come on, don’t break on me.” he chided her, burying his face in her neck. “I’m not… I’m not going to be the strong one on this. Don’t break on me.”

“I would do anything for Katniss and Peeta…” she swore, swallowing back a sob. “But _this_? _Twelve?_ I want the white house with blue blinds, Haymitch… I want the blue bedroom and the view on the sea… I want my garden full of flowers and the yellow kitchen…”

“Yeah… That’s a dream.” he scoffed. “We should have known better. We’re not dreamers, sweetheart.”

She shook her head and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t… I don’t want to be parted from you again. I _can’t_.”

“Sure you can.” he chuckled, a little sad. “Cause there are Safia and Peeta, and you’re going to be strong for them ‘cause that’s what you do. And then you’ll bring the boy back to Twelve and… We’ll try to make a life there, yeah? Doesn’t matter where as long as we’re together, right?”

His tone was almost begging.

“I suppose not.” she admitted. But _Twelve_ … “Why are the odds never in our favor?”

“I don’t know.” he snorted. “Karma?”

It was cold and she was shivering. He wrapped his sweater tighter around her shoulders and then steered her back toward the sliding doors. She almost suggested they brought the mattress out for old time’s sake but in the end she kept silent because she didn’t think she could bear it. He slid the door shut behind them and closed the bedroom door while he was at it. She discarded the sweater on the chair in the corner where his clothes had a habit of piling up – and she knew, she just _knew_ she would spend the following weeks sleeping with every last piece of clothing he would leave in hope of being comforted by his smell.

He kissed her by the bed. It was slow and desperate and she hated every second of it.

“It tastes like goodbye.” she hissed. “I _hate_ when it tastes like goodbye…”

She had truly thought they were done with that. They had made a vow on their wedding day. _They had made a vow_ and…

“The kids come first. Right?” he asked and he sounded uncertain. “Cause, you know, _technically_ Hayden was her mentor too and he’s already there and…”

“But she’s _ours_ and not Hayden’s.” she argued, biting down on his bottom lip to punish him for even entertaining that thought – a thought that, if she was honest, she had nursed too.

He breathed out a shuddering sigh and pushed the strap of her nightgown down her shoulder, following the path of his fingers with his mouth. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” she countered, making a quick job of unbuttoning his shirt. “We are married, remember? I am yours and you are mine and _nothing_ will change that.”

They tore at each other’s remaining clothes with too much anger and frustration for their predicament. It was a quick affair, quicker than their goodbye sex usually was. He settled between her legs and he thrust in her with so much violence she knew her hips would be bruised the next day. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tugged instead of brushing… It was rough and it didn’t take her long to muffle her cry in the crook of her elbow.

Once he was spent Haymitch slumped on her and remained there, crushing her to the mattress with the whole weight of his body. She didn’t unlock her legs from around his waist. She wanted to keep him there. In her. _With_ her.

“I don’t want to be without you.” he muttered against her skin.

“No drinking.” she demanded. “And you will be nice to your brother. He is enjoying being Twelve’s leader, do _not_ spoil that for him. And you _will_ look after Katniss. I _forbid_ you to wallow in your misery.”

“You’ll call when you’re in over your head with Safia.” he retorted. “And you’ll go straight to Plutarch if anything happens. And if you get scared or if you can’t sleep…”

“I will call.” she promised.

“ _Any_ time.” he insisted. “And don’t you go fall in love with a dashing Capitol guy while I’m out there, sweetheart…”

“As long as you don’t find yourself a pretty girl in Twelve…” she teased but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Like Mama and Hayden wouldn’t murder me if I so much as _look_ at another woman.” he chuckled no more amused than she was. It was necessary to make an effort though, to _pretend_. _Eyes bright, chin up, smile on._ He propped himself on his elbows to look at her and she was so pained by the sorrow and anguish on his face that she brushed her hand against his cheek, savoring the raspy feel of his stubble against her palm. He pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. “Maybe I’ll get myself some new geese.”

It wasn’t _quite_ asking for permission, she thought, but it was certainly testing waters on that front. Haymitch loved his birds, she knew that. He had always complained and ranted about how Hayden had wanted them and then given them up but she knew he had been attached to the gaggle.

“If you must.” she granted.

“Think I do.” he shrugged. “Keeps me away from booze.”

“Then find yourself some geese.” she whispered.

He sighed and leaned down to capture her mouth. “I hate this.”

“Me too.”

°O°O°O°

“Take her.” he begged, clenching his jaw.

Effie had to bodily remove Safia from his arms. The girl was wailing and screaming in complete hysterics and he wondered if, maybe, he shouldn’t have just slipped away without telling her first he wouldn’t be back. The kid was usually so calm though…

“I love you.” Effie said, fighting to keep Safia from escaping her arms and running to him. “Take care of Katniss.”

“I will.” he promised, reaching out to brush his hand against her cheek one last time. They had said their goodbyes already. They had spent _the whole night_ saying goodbye.

He flung his bag over his shoulder and he forced himself _not_ to look _back_. It was even harder than he had thought it would be. He could hear Safia’s cries all the way to the elevator and it took almost everything he had not to go back and hug her until she stopped.

He had gotten attached to the kid.

_Hell_ , that kid was as good as _his_ now, it was natural he had grown attached. He hated when she cried, he hated when she had nightmares, he hated that she had abandonment issues and he hated having to leave her.

He wanted to go back and tell Effie ‘ _fuck it, if I’m leaving you’re both coming with me’_ but he knew it wasn’t the right call. Twelve was not a place for a kid right now and they couldn’t give up on Peeta.

He was in a bad mood when he reached the Training Center and it wasn’t made any better by the fact Katniss had been lying on her mattress for the last two days. He had to call people in to help her get ready.

He waited in the hovercraft with Plutarch who chatted about what he hoped to achieve in Three, apparently not noticing Haymitch was staring at the bangle around his wrist and not listening to a word he was saying.

“How did Effie take it?” the former Gamemaker asked eventually. It was the sound of her name that pulled him from his thoughts.

“Fine.” he grumbled.

“She will join you in Twelve later, I take it?” Plutarch insisted.

“Yeah.” he said.

The Capitol studied him for a few more minutes and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Haymitch, I know it’s not ideal but…”

“Just _shut up_ , yeah?” he snapped. “How about _that_?”

Katniss, once brought on board, looked remarkably _normal_. Plutarch did most of the talking. It wasn’t until they had dropped him off in Three that the two of them had a real conversation.

“So why are you going back to Twelve?” she had the nerves to ask.

She wasn’t surprised that her mother wasn’t coming back, she didn’t even open her letter.

“Do you want to know who else won’t be there?” he sneered, more hurt by her attitude than he was ready to let her know. He loved her but she was a _brat_.

“No, I want to be surprised.” she replied.

She didn’t ask after Effie once and he didn’t offer an explanation.

She didn’t ask after the boy either.

Twelve was exactly what he thought it would be. Destruction. _Everywhere_. They were doing a good job at clearing out the rubble but… Haymitch chose not to look. He kept his eyes on the ground, his hands buried deep in his pockets, ready to catch the girl if she faltered. Katniss walked without stumbling once though. He guided her to her own house, not exactly surprised to find his mother at work inside.

“Aren’t you supposed to be _resting_?” he snorted.

Somehow, he thought, he should have expected to find Iris dusting everything in the living-room.

“Haymitch!” she beamed, opening her arms for a hug he was only too happy to give. “You could have _called_. We found out through the TV.”

“No time. Sorry, Mama.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss against her cheek before releasing her. Katniss went straight to the couch and lied down. It annoyed him. He wanted to sympathize but he was finding it very hard to be compassionate at that moment. “I’m going home.”

“I will stay with her for a while.” Iris offered, lowering her voice. “Sae said she would pitch in and help.”

“Good.” he nodded. It was a relief. They needed to keep a sharp eye on her. They couldn’t afford the same kind of suicidal watch they had kept at the Training Center and he wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing. She needed to decide for herself she wanted to live. They couldn’t do that for her.

“Where is Effie? Did she bring Safia home already?” his mother asked. “Hayden started taking apart the furniture in his old bedroom. We thought we could paint it pink, make it nice for her… I know it’s not Four but… It is something at least.”

It was a nice gesture. It made his heart _ache_.

“They stayed in the Capitol, Mama.” he said, his tone flat.

Her face fell a little. “I was afraid you would say that.”

“It’s fine. It’s…” He shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He noticed Katniss’ eyes tracked his progression out of the room but he couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not. She didn’t try to hold him back or even acknowledge the fact that he was leaving.

The Village felt like a completely different place. The destruction in there was almost nonexistent. The same dust and ash that covered everything were present too but it had been swept aside, the houses were lived-in, there were people in the surrounding backyards and in the streets…

He ignored the general staring and the hesitant waving of some of them. Too many people. He was used to a quiet deserted Village. If that was now the norm, it would quickly become unbearable.

His house looked the same as always.

He stepped through the back door into the kitchen and he hated every second of it. It was like walking back into the past.

Nothing had changed.

The blue kettle was still on the side of the stove, ready to be used, the painting of a mill on a hill was still on the wall, the clean dishes were on the drying rack, there was some stew leftover on the counter for that night’s meal…

He was unhooking the phone before he even dropped his bag. Effie picked up after the second ring. “ _Effie Trinket, speaking.”_

“Shouldn’t it be Abernathy?” he snorted, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall, relieved to just hear the sound of her voice.

_“Well, we never discussed it.”_ she chuckled. _“Do you want me to change my name?”_

“I don’t know.” he admitted. “I like the idea but you’ll always be Effie Trinket to me, sweetheart.”

_“I could always hyphenate the two.”_ she suggested.

He made a face. “Yeah... Huge _no_.”

She laughed at the obvious repugnance in his voice and he chuckled and, for a _brief_ moment, everything was alright with the world.

_“How was the trip? How is Katniss?”_ she asked tentatively.

“Long and she’s… I don’t know. She’s not quite _here_.” he sighed. “It’s going to be a long road.”

_“We visited Peeta this morning.”_ she said _“I wanted to tell him the good news.”_

“ _Good_.” he repeated bitterly. “I’m not sure there’s anything _good_ here.”

_“Yes… Well…”_ she breathed out. _“I miss you already but it won’t help if I tell you this, will it?”_

“Not really.” he scowled. “How’s the kid?”

“ _Peeta?_ ” she hummed. “ _He is doing well. The doctor talked to me about a phase of rehabilitation… In a month or so he would like me to take him home. Our apartment, I mean. To help him get used to living outside of the clinic again but with some heavy follow up obviously. It will help us establish when he is ready to go back to Twelve._ ”

“ _That’s_ good news.” he declared. Maybe, just _maybe_ , Katniss and Peeta would both recover from this. They were young and strong… Granted being young and strong had never helped any victor on the long run but those victors never had a chance at recovering in a _free_ world. “And Safia?” He rolled his eyes. “How did we end up with _so many_ kids, sweetheart?”

_“Games and wars.”_ she deadpanned. _“Safia is… upset. Going to see Peeta helped some but… She doesn’t understand why you had to leave and… She is upset, there is no other way to say that. She is afraid you won’t come back, I think.”_

“Can you put her on the phone?” he winced. He didn’t want the girl to think he had given up on her. He didn’t give up on his kids. That was why he had stuck and would continue to stick by Katniss to the very end. He had failed Finnick… He wouldn’t fail another one.

_“She fell asleep and she cried so much today…”_ Effie hesitated. _“I will call back later when she wakes up.”_

“Okay.” he sulked. He missed the kid already. He had grown used to her being around all the time, asking him to play with her or requesting a cuddle… He suspected he would _really_ miss Safia’s cuddling.

_“I do miss you.”_ she whispered.

“It’s only been a few hours.” he reminded her. “We’ve done worse than this. We’ll… We’ll be okay.”

There was a brief silence and then she took a deep breath. _“I do not like being alone.”_

“You’re not alone. You’ve got Safia and Peeta.” he countered. “And I’m just a phone call away, yeah? Jo and Hayden too.”

_“I saw Hazelle earlier.”_ she said. _“They are leaving for Two at the end of the week. Safia won’t like losing Posy. I tried to explain it to her but… She’s so little, Haymitch… Her world already crumbled once and now I feel like…”_ She stopped and took another big breath. _“We will deal. There is no choice.”_

“No, there’s not.” he sighed. “You’re calling back later?”

“ _Yes.”_ she promised. _“And I won’t forget to answer the phone by Effie Abernathy. Oh… You should get Hayden to call me. That will make him laugh.”_

He chuckled and said goodbye, wondering how many times a day they would call each other in the following weeks – _months_. He kicked his bag in frustration but it didn’t relieve him or change the unfairness of it all.

He toured the house because he had nothing else to do. Everything was more or less as he had left it on the Quell’s morning except for his bedroom where a pile of clean laundry was waiting to be put away – had been waiting for a while probably.

What used to be his brother’s bedroom was different too. His mother hadn’t been kidding when she had said Hayden had started to take the furniture apart. They would need to order some kid stuff for Safia… He didn’t know what Effie wanted to do with the Capitol’s apartment, they had talked about selling it once they’d have moved to Four but now…

He closed the door to the empty room and wandered back down to the kitchen. He knew checking the secret hidden place in the yard was useless, there was no liquor left there and he highly doubted he would find any in the District. He settled for some tea instead.

The kettle had just whistled when he heard barking. The backdoor opened and a huge dog came running, going straight for him. Haymitch instinctively stepped back, his mind flashing to bloodthirsty mutts.

“Homer, _down_.” his brother ordered from the door. The mutt-like dog immediately lied down at Haymitch’s feet with a whine. “Sorry. He wasn’t going to hurt you. He’s friendly.”

“Since when do we have a _fucking_ dog?” Haymitch asked, tentatively reaching to scratch the animal behind the ears. It was obviously not purebred but it was huge and hairy and it rewarded his attention with enthusiastic licking.

“Found him on my first day back.” Hayden shrugged, approaching to clasp his shoulder with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, baby brother.” he smirked, fixing them two mugs of tea. “Should have known you would find a monster and keep it.”

“He’s _really_ friendly.” Hayden insisted. “Safia will love him. Where’s my favorite niece?” Haymitch didn’t answer, he simply carried the mugs to the kitchen table, stepping over the dog that didn’t seem in the mood to move. He didn’t _need_ to answer. Hayden winced. “They stayed behind.”

“Yeah.” he confirmed, not looking at him in the eyes.

“It’s probably better for now anyway.” his brother offered, sitting down with him. “It’s still not very pretty out there.”

“Better than I thought it would be.” he granted.

“Rebuilding is a slow process.” Hayden sighed. “But we’ll get there.”

“If you say so.” Haymitch snorted.

He had tried rebuilding his life.

It always came back to the basics.

Twelve and loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left...


	115. Chapter 115

Homer bolted from where he was lying at Haymitch’s feet, joyfully barking, and Haymitch looked up as his brother appeared at the yard’s gate.

“You’re keeping weird hours for a mayor.” he mocked as Hayden hopped the few steps leading up the porch. “Maybe I shouldn’t have voted for you after all.”

It had been one of the proudest moments of his life, he thought, when his baby brother had been lawfully and legally _elected_. Granted there hadn’t been much in terms of opposition but it had been their first time voting, for all of them, and it had felt _good_. It hadn’t been a surprise when the refugees from Twelve had chosen him to be their mayor and it hadn’t been a surprise either when national polls had confirmed Paylor in her role as president.

“Funny.” Hayden deadpanned. “It’s slow running today. Thought I would come and see if you needed help.”

Haymitch looked back at what he had been doing and shook his head. In the two months since he had been back in Twelve, this project – as stupid and ridiculous as it was – had been keeping him sane and away from booze.

It had began with getting Safia’s room ready as a way to convince himself she and Effie _would_ come eventually. Then he had adopted a new gaggle that Hayden’s dog loved to chase around the backyard – Homer never hurt them, happy to just run after them and herd them back in the pen, because _clearly_ the stupid mutt couldn’t tell the difference between birds and sheep but the geese hated the dog all the same. After that he had simply gone overboard.

He had repainted the kitchen. The paint had been old and peeling, that was what he had told his mother when she had wrinkled her nose at the bright sunshine yellow he had chosen for the walls – the same shade the Capitol apartment’s kitchen was painted in. Then he had redone his bathroom in Effie’s favorite shades of blue and he had started the herculean task of repainting the whole outer walls of the house in white. Now he was down to painting the blinds blue.

It wasn’t Four and it wasn’t their dream house.

But he wanted to try.

“I’m almost done for today.” he told his brother. “I’m going to go check on the girl.”

A daunting task he forced himself to go through every day if only to have something to tell Effie when she would ask during their evening phone call. There was never any change. Aside from using the bathroom and occasionally eating and drinking what they put in front of her, he didn’t think Katniss moved from the couch at all. She was still wearing the same clothes he had brought her back in.

The previous day he had told her she reeked like a rotten corpse.

She hadn’t even glanced at him.

It was exhausting and _nothing_ had any effect on her. He had gotten angry, he had been gentle, he had _begged_ her to get a grip, he had tried to reason with her… Nothing did the trick.

Peeta, at least, was making progress. He was living with Effie now, his freedom of movements increased. Haymitch had been wary about Safia at first, afraid the boy would hurt her in a fit of trackerjacker venom induced madness but, so far, everything was going fine according to his wife. Peeta and Safia were like two peas in a pod. Safia was over the moon because Peeta was always willing to play with her and Effie was so happy to have him back with her that Haymitch had kept his reserves to himself.

He missed them, the lot of them.

“I’ll go with you.” Hayden offered with a shrug.

“No, you’re not.” Haymitch smirked. “You’ve got things to do.”

“Yeah?” his brother frowned. “Like what?”

“Like making sure your house’s still standing.” he said. “’Cause that kid’s a whirlwind, I’m telling you.”

“Kid…” Hayden repeated, obviously puzzled. “I don’t…”

Haymitch nodded to the house across the street, his smirk slowly morphing in a more genuine smile. It took a few seconds for Hayden to spot the anomalies: the wide opened windows, the bags still piled on the porch next to the door, the laughter and joyful shouts coming from inside…

“Is it for a visit or…” his brother asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did she say…”

“Didn’t ask.” Haymitch admitted. “But she brought the kids.”

Hayden had gone to Two a few times but he was tight-lipped on what was going on with Hazelle. The only thing he was willing to disclose to him and his mother was that they were still together. To Haymitch, he had confessed he was tired of the situation but didn’t want to pressure her. Haymitch had declared it was _bullshit_ and that if Hazelle didn’t want him then he deserved better and should find someone else. Hayden hadn’t wanted to hear it.

It was like something out of a _fucking_ movie and Haymitch rolled his eyes when Hazelle stepped out on the porch to get the rest of the bags. She froze when she spotted Hayden but it seemed to spur his brother on. Hayden was in the street before Haymitch could say anything and Hazelle finally moved toward him.

It wasn’t her who reached him first though.

Posy came running out of the house and hurled herself at him with a cry, closely followed by Vick. The little girl knocked the air out of his brother’s lungs and, clearly, he wasn’t ready to be doubly assaulted because he stumbled back and fell on his ass – not that it disturbed the kids who were too busy shouting themselves hoarse with joy. Homer joined in, barking and jumping around Hayden. Hazelle tried to call some order back but failed when Hayden started laughing like a crazy man, simply opening his arm wider so Rory and Hazelle could join.

“Crazy kid.” Haymitch muttered with amusement, shaking his head but unable to shake the smile off his lips.

He left his brother’s to his reunion with his family and made his way to Katniss’, trying to ignore the tinge of envy in his heart.

His mother was knitting in the girl’s living-room, sitting on an armchair and keeping up a one-sided conversation. He sent her home.

He lingered longer than usual with Katniss, content to share her silence and melancholia for once. He toyed with the idea of dragging her to the shower because the smell was really starting to bother him – and that was probably saying something. He threatened to do it. She didn’t even flinch.

He wasn’t exactly surprised to find his house colonized when he came back home. Iris was bustling around the kitchen, a bright smile on her lips, the kids were running around underfoot, the dog was chasing after them like they were some wayward geese – to Posy’s delight – Hayden and Hazelle were whispering in the living-room, safe from prying eyes.

“You’re back for good?” he asked Hazelle the first chance he got. He had cornered her in the living-room. It wouldn’t be long before one of the kids or Hayden or his mother came in and interrupted them. He needed to make sure before that.

“Yes.” she nodded, having the decency to look sheepish faced with his stern expression. “Effie was right. Being without him… It isn’t worth it.”

“Good.” he nodded. “Don’t screw him up again or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Hayden would probably scream and rage if he ever found out he threatened Hazelle but, despite everything, Hayden was _still_ his baby brother and it fell on him to protect him.

His friend smiled and placed a hand on his arm. “You are a good brother, Haymitch.”

“Trying to be.” he shrugged.

Posy came running, crashing against her mother’s leg and babbling about how happy she was she now had Hayden back _and_ a dog to top it off and Haymitch’s heart clenched at the sight of the little girl.

He talked to Safia on the phone every day.

The girl had been having nightmares and finished the night in Effie’s bed more often than not, certain she would be left alone again. It had improved once Peeta had moved in but not enough. Haymitch had filled a newly empty space in her life and she missed him. To be honest, he missed her too.

Dinner was loud. There were several conversations going at the same time and there were so many people they had to use the dining room instead of the kitchen where they usually had their meals. Gale had stayed in Two and was planning on remaining there from what Hazelle said. The kid was content if not happy, his job suited him.

Haymitch fell into the background, the voices blurring into an incomprehensible noise. Hayden was happy, laughing and perpetually reaching out for Hazelle’s hand, and it was good to see him like that. It was a little bittersweet for him to look across the table to see a _man_ and not the kid he had always considered Hayden to be but it was also good, as it should be. He would always be there for Hayden but he wasn’t convinced his brother truly needed him anymore.

It was a long time before he could make his escape to the backyard but it was a needed one.

The sun had set and he breathed in the sharp nocturnal air. The weather was warmer those days. Spring was slowly creeping in.

He sat on the back porch, regretting the time where he would have been able to unearth a hidden bottle from the secret stash in the pen. He watched the geese wandering around instead, safe from the dog’s games for once, distractedly turning his wedding ring around his finger.

The back door opened and closed softly. He looked up, not exactly surprised to find Iris there.

“They’re gone?” he asked when she handed him a steaming mug of tea.

“Yes.” his mother nodded. “They’ve gone home.” She grinned at that word and Haymitch had the sudden fear her heart would burst in joy. That would be like her. He insisted she went to Thirteen at least once a month for a complete check-up but while her state of health was stable, her condition hadn’t changed. He was painfully aware there wouldn’t be decades left with her. Unaware of his morbid thoughts, Iris lowered herself down on the step next to him, cradling her own cup of tea in her hands. “I have been thinking… Maybe you should go home too.”

He stared at the brownish liquid in the mug. “I _am_ home, Mama.”

“You know what I mean.” she chided him gently. “We could take care of Katniss for a few days. You could go to the Capitol. Visit them. You miss them so much… I see how much you’re hurting…”

“Can’t say goodbye again.” he countered quietly. “It’s better this way.”

He had thought about it, taking a train, popping in for a couple of days, maybe even a whole week… The prospect of _leaving them_ was too daunting. He would never be able to hold them only to let them go. It was too much to ask. Heartbreak in the making.

And there was Katniss.

He didn’t want to leave Katniss.

His mother let out a deep sigh but she didn’t try to insist. Somehow, he thought she understood just what he meant.

They drank their tea in silence, watching the birds.

°O°O°O°

Effie and Peeta exchanged a fond smile as Safia babbled excitedly about her day. The girl had jumped on the phone as soon as it had started ringing, barely greeting Haymitch properly before launching herself into the retelling of the zoo excursion.

The doctors insisted it was good for Peeta to do some outings, to help him reconnect with the world, and Effie had taken that to heart. The zoo had always been a favorite place for her niece… Two birds with one stone.

Safia had been prattling for almost half an hour about monkeys when her regular yawning gave way to rubbing her eyes and she didn’t protest when Peeta suggested he would read her a bedtime story if she relinquished the phone.

Effie thanked him quietly and retreated to the balcony as was now her nightly routine.

“Are you all educated on monkeys?” she joked.

_“There’s no_ ever _doubting you two are related.”_ Haymitch scoffed _. “_ Fuck _, can she talk.”_

“Language.” she chided him by reflex, leaning against the railing. “How was your day?” There was a silence, a silence that lasted too long. “Haymitch?”

_“Hazelle moved back here.”_ he sighed after a few seconds.

She frowned. “Which is actually good news, isn’t it? Hayden must be _thrilled_.”

Hayden had been rather miserable over the whole Hazelle business and she knew – or _guessed_ but, truly, he was her best friend and she _could_ tell – he had been downplaying just how hurt he had been by her decision to stay in Two. It had been hard for him as fulfilling as his new job as mayor was, he had been missing her and the children.

Effie could sympathize.

She missed Haymitch and Katniss like _crazy_. One would think she would have grown used to his absence and to this hole in her chest but after everything that had happened… It hadn’t become _easier_ to be separated from him. And with Peeta safely under her care, she couldn’t help but worry about Katniss.

_“Yeah, he’s… happy.”_ he sighed and she almost could see him shrugging. _“But…”_ He sighed again and there was some noise on the other end of the line, the rattling of a chair, and she figured he had sit down. _“Never mind, sweetheart.”_

She closed her eyes. “It makes you miss us…”

She knew because she was jealous over Hayden and Hazelle’s reunion. She wanted _so badly_ for their turn to come. Hadn’t they been through enough? Hadn’t they _suffered_ enough? Didn’t they deserve to be happy too? It was unfair.

_“I don’t need that to make me miss you.”_ he snorted. _“It just… He’s got his family and I’m glad for that. I’m_ glad _for him, Effie.”_

“I know you are.” she whispered.

_“But yeah… Maybe I want mine too.”_ he admitted. _“You and the kids… I need you back with me.”_

She took the time to lick her lips before she spoke again, to make sure the tears prickling her eyes wouldn’t show in her voice. Neither of them could afford to break. They were both standing on the edge and neither of them could afford to break. The children depended on them to be strong.

That was how it ought to be.

“How is Katniss?” she asked. “Did you manage to convince her to take a shower? Hygiene is important. She might catch some disease.”

His low rumble of a laugh echoed down the line but it was bitter. _“I’m thinking about splashing her with the garden hose.”_

“I am serious, Haymitch.” She clucked her tongue. “She cannot stay like this.”

_“Told you before. It has to come from her.”_ he sighed. _“You want my best guess? I’m not good enough for her. She needs her mother, she needs the boy… She needs someone who_ matters _.”_

“You matter to her.” she countered softly. “She loves you.”

_“We’re too much alike, sweetheart.”_ he said. _“I can’t reach her. Never expected to, to be honest. I’m not enough reason for her to want to start living her life again.”_

This wasn’t reassuring news. At all.

“I wish I could be there for her.” she scowled. “I wish we could…”

_“Any news from the doc?”_ he cut her off. _“When will Peeta get clearance?”_

There was a touch of despair in his voice she only understood too well.

“I don’t know.” she confessed. “The doctor is happy with his progress but… We are still in an observatory phase.”

_“So… Not any time soon.”_ he spat.

“No…” she breathed out. “Not any time soon.” 

_“’Kay, I need to go now.”_ he said.

“Haymitch, wait…” she tried.

_“Yeah, see, that’s all I’m good at._ Fucking _waiting for my time to be happy.”_ he chuckled. _“Never works out. Look, I need to go. Hayden’s stupid dog is chasing after my geese again. I’ll call tomorrow. Say hi to the boy.”_

“Haymitch…” she begged.

There was a click and the line disconnected.

She resisted the urge to throw the phone against the wall.

She buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath.

She wouldn’t break. She _wouldn’t_.

She heard the bay window sliding open and Peeta clearing his throat and she slowly took her hands down, schooling her features into something a little less desperate.

“Safia’s asleep.” the boy told her. “Is everything alright?”

She forced a cheerful smile on her lips and turned around, ushering him back inside with an arm around his shoulders. “Absolutely. Haymitch says hello. He’s happy to know you are doing so well…”

She kept smiling even though it hurt.

_Eyes bright, chin up, smile on_ , she reminded herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the one before last, folks. I'm already emotional... Let me know what you thought!


	116. Chapter 116

 

_Out of the night that covers me,_

_Black as the pit from pole to pole,_

_I thank whatever gods may be_

_For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under the bludgeoning of chance_

_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

_Looms but the Horror of the shade,_

_And yet the menace of the years_

_Finds and shall find me unafraid._

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

_I am the master of my fate,_

_I am the captain of my soul._

Invictus _– William Ernest Henley_

 

 

* * *

“ _Fucking_ dog.” Haymitch grumbled, careful to hit the nail with the hammer and not his thumb. Hayden’s stupid pet kept rushing head first into the pen when it tried to herd the geese back inside and it had loosened more than one plank of wood. The time Haymitch was forced to spend patching the pen up…

Not that he had anything more interesting to do.

Another month gone, winter was definitely through even in Twelve where the freezing cold tended to linger. Spring had come, tentative grass was slowly replacing the frost, flowers were starting to bloom in his mother’s flowerpots, and the house was as freshened up as it would ever be. He had repainted most rooms, he had moved furniture around in a futile effort to pretend life was different, he had tried to find ways to remind himself he didn’t need to drink himself into a stupor anymore… There would be no more Reapings come spring, there would be no more arguing with his brother over his drinking and no more _special appointments_ …

It was over.

Done.

That knowledge didn’t help, he was still restless.

He had finally lost his patience short of two weeks earlier and had dragged Katniss to the bathroom. She hadn’t even blinked the whole time. She was like a puppet. She hadn’t protested when he had dropped her in the bathtub and she hadn’t protested when he had dumped hot water over her head. She had had so much grime on her skin the water had turned dark long before his mother had appeared to help. The girl had put on the clean clothes they had laid out for her and calmly walked back to the couch where she had resumed her curled up position as if nothing had happened.

He had burned the clothes she had left the Capitol with.

She wasn’t better.

Nothing was better.

Well… _Hayden_ was better, he figured. Hayden was living the dream. He loved his job as Mayor, everyone in the District liked and respected him, he had a woman and kids to go home to and a dog to complete the cliché. His brother was walking on _fucking_ clouds and Haymitch was happy for him, _he was_. They were getting along better than they had in a very long time, since they were kids probably… But…

Haymitch hammered the nail in place and wiped his brow with his sleeve, ignoring the wild honking of the geese trapped in their pen. They didn’t like the hammering. Too bad.

He put the tool down and he was just reaching for another nail in the box next to him when his eyes were suddenly covered by small hands. It was a good thing he had grown used to Hazelle’s kids running freely around the house and jumping on him when he least expected it because aside for gripping the little wrists tight, he managed to control his instinctive impulse to shake the threat off.

“Already told you not to do that, Posy.” he growled, trying to keep most of the annoyance out of his voice.

There was a loud girlish giggle.

“You guessed wrong.” the little girl sing-sang in a voice so _fucking_ familiar it _hurt_. “You have to try again.”

He almost tore the hands off his face in his rush to turn around but, surely enough, there she was, in a blinding pink traveling outfit of striped leggings and a sweater, pigtails adorned with ribbons, completely ridiculous in her Capitolness and absolutely adorable anyway.

“Safia.” he breathed out, hugging her close.

“Surprise!” the child laughed. “Are you surprised, Uncle Haymitch?”

He held her tight, standing up, his eyes searching the yard for…

Effie was standing right at the kitchen door and he was reminded of another time, one when he had been hugging Hazelle and she had appeared right in that spot, a time when he had been craving her so _badly_ … Things hadn’t changed that much, it seemed.

“I know you don’t like surprises…” she said, a smile so manic it must have hurt stretching her lips. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “But I thought we would make an exception.”

He crossed the distance in record time, wrapping his arms around her, squashing Safia between them to her endless amusement.

“Peeta?” he asked in her ear. 

“He went back home to settle down.” she told him. “He is fine, he was impatient to come back and… See everyone.”

Her voice was cautious when she said that last part but he didn’t even care. He couldn’t care less about the _how_ and the _why_ , he drew back from the hug enough that he could kiss her. She responded to it immediately, forcing his lips open with her tongue, turning the kiss into an aggressive mess of pent up frustration and loss.

Safia made disgusted noises and repeated that it was apparently _rude_ for them to do that but he couldn’t care less about that either. Neither could Effie, clearly.

Even Iris’ sudden intake of breath and her “ _Oh, dear!_ ” wasn’t enough to convince them to stop kissing, he barely registered the noise. He was vaguely aware that Safia was freed from his arm and that his mother was talking again.

“Let’s give your aunt and uncle a chance to reconnect, right?” Iris told Safia. “Let’s go see Posy. I’m sure she will be glad to see you. Oh, I’m so happy to have you back, little one…”

His now free arm immediately sneaked around Effie’s back and he drew her closer, deepening the kiss even more, his hands roaming everywhere at once. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe… He existed only through her.

She bundled his shirt, pulled it out of his pants and he inched her dress up in answer, nudging her toward the kitchen table. She broke the kiss when he tried to lift her up.

“Bedroom.” she whispered. “I don’t want to be interrupted.”

She started kissing him again as if she couldn’t have enough of it and he was on the very same line of thought. He did pick her up anyway, securing her with his arms around her waist while her legs locked around his hips. Maneuvering the stairs was a little difficult but he managed well enough. They stumbled to his room, bumping against the walls on the way and tearing clothes aside.

He didn’t even spare a thought for what his mother would think when she would find his shirt abandoned in the middle of the corridor or her shoes scattered in different places. He nudged the door closed with his foot once they were inside and he pushed her on the bed with a smirk.

She was already slipping her dress over her head and unclasping her bra. He hastily toed off his shoes and socks, never looking away from her. She was naked and grinning by the time he unbuckled his belt and her hands covered his, pushing his pants and boxers down impatiently.

“I want you _now_.” she growled.

He was already half hard but those words were enough to make every part of him stand at attention.

There was no finesse in this bout of lovemaking. It was rough and almost violent, _primitive_. They clawed and bit at each other, their hips clashing against each other’s in ways that would leave bruises. It was so reminiscent of their last time Haymitch wanted to slow down, take his time, but he _couldn’t_. He needed her too much. He needed to _feel_ her, to make sure she was there. Alive and there.

He came first with a low groan but he refused to leave her hanging. It didn’t take much more than a few strokes of his fingers to make her fall apart.

They clung to each other, sweaty and panting, until he rolled off her. She refused to be shaken off though and she kept her legs locked around him, kept him firmly inside her, as they rested on their sides, pressed tight against each other.

“Never leave me again.” she begged.

He brushed her hair back, it had grown since the last time he had seen her. It was reaching her shoulders again and wildly curling in the way he liked best.

“Never.” he promised. And this time, he intended to keep his word.

She captured his mouth, torturing him until a moan betrayed him. He felt himself twitch inside her and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be ready to have another go. He would make it last this time, he promised himself, he would worship her like she deserved to be.

“You changed the mattress.” she mumbled against his lips.

“Last time you said it was squeaky.” he muttered right in the middle of the kiss. “I aim to please, sweetheart.” He rocked his hips tentatively and a whimpering noise escaped her throat. He couldn’t help but chuckled. “See?”

“I love you.” she replied, a little incoherently.

“Good thing you married me then.” he smirked, dropping kisses on her jaw and neck before bowing to suck a nipple into his mouth.

He _did_ keep a hold on himself this time, making sure to go slow and to stop moving every time he brought her on the edge. He liked teasing her.

When she finally came, she did it with a cry that made him chuckle just because she could _never_ be quiet and he loved that about her. She took her revenge by pushing him on his back and riding him until he felt ready to burst only to refuse to move no matter how much he tugged on her hips. She worked herself up again and, this time, when she allowed both of them to come, she managed to swallow her moan back.

She slumped on his chest and took the time to catch her breath before peppering his torsos with kisses.

“Shower?” she suggested in a hum.

The shower wasn’t a hurried affair. They fooled around more than they washed, taking full advantage of having the other close by once again, touching and kissing and _embracing_ …

“We should…” she said eventually.

“Yeah.” he sighed because, like it or not, they weren’t _alone_ anymore. He didn’t know how long they had locked themselves away in his room but he guessed it was long enough that his mother had brought Safia back from his brother’s. He turned the water off and wrapped a towel around her chest before grabbing another one from under the sink. He didn’t resist the urge to kiss her one last time or to press his lips against her shoulder as she toweled her hair.

They were chuckling a lot for no good reason.

He wondered if you could get high on love.

Someone – he hoped it was Hayden – had carried all her suitcases and bags upstairs and had left them in the corridor, a safe distance away from the bedroom. There was another small pile in front of Safia’s room. He spared a thought for Peeta – who had, no doubt, be forced to carry everything from their apartment to the Capitol train station and then from the station to the Village – before he dragged everything that belonged to her inside the bedroom.

When she stepped out of the bathroom with her hair blown dry, she briefly froze at the surrounding mess of luggage and then opened a case and selected a new outfit as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He watched her get ready, mocking her about taking too much time like he used to do. She replied with her own usual taunts and they were both smiling so hard it was ridiculous.

Her smile faltered when they walked in the kitchen. She hadn’t expected to find the whole Hawthorne family plus Hayden and Peeta in addition to his mother and her niece, he could tell. She blushed crimson because it was pretty clear for all the adults present what they had been doing, he figured, and bent down to greet Posy and the rest of the kids before hugging Hayden tight.

He didn’t know what his brother whispered in her ear but given his grey twinkling eyes and the less than gentle whack she gave his shoulder, it was probably a teasing comment of some sort.

He stopped paying attention when she hugged Hazelle and Iris. He clasped Peeta’s shoulder and tossed caution to the wind by hugging him.

“It’s good to have you back, boy.” he told him, his voice rough.

“It’s good to be back.” Peeta offered. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re good, that’s all that matters.” he shrugged, stepping back to pick up Safia who was hovering near his leg, waiting for her turn. “How about you, sweetheart? You’re happy to see me?”

It was a stupid question if there ever was one. Safia barely let him out of her sight the whole evening. There were so many people they had to eat in the dining room they had never used because they couldn’t all fit in the kitchen. The kids were so happy to be back together they were impossible. The adults were all talking at the same time, trying to catch up. It was loud and joyful and Haymitch stretched his arm on the back of Effie’s chair long before dinner was finished, tracing lazy circles on her shoulder blade with his thumb while he bantered with his brother.

He felt better than he had felt in a long time.

It was late by the time Hazelle and Hayden managed to coax Posy and Safia apart so they could go back home and even later when Haymitch and Effie succeeded in putting the girl to bed. Her room had been ready for some time now but to her it was brand new and Twelve was a strange place. She was half excited and half anxious. Eventually she dropped asleep.

His mother lingered downstairs longer than she usually did, so obviously happy to see Effie that Haymitch couldn’t help his smile as he went to feed the geese – and make sure Hayden’s dog wasn’t wreaking havoc in his backyard again.

Iris had gone upstairs when he went back inside and he found Effie on the front porch, leaning against the railing and watching the street. All lights in his brother’s house were out, he noticed distractedly. She smiled when he joined her, when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss against her neck. That was something he wouldn’t get tired of doing any time soon, he suspected. He had missed her too much not to touch at every given opportunity.

“I like what you did with your house.” she hummed.

“ _Our_ house.” he corrected quietly.

“Our house.” she repeated with obvious satisfaction, turning around in his arms and leaning back against the railing. “I love that you made it _ours_.”

“There’s still some work to do.” he shrugged. “You can change what you want, yeah? Make it _home_. I know it’s not Four…”

“Never mind Four.” she cut him off. “We have our family. That is all that matters to me.”

“We’re gonna be happy, Princess.” he promised. “Four or not, dream house or not… We’re gonna be so _fucking_ happy we’ll make everyone else jealous.”

He couldn’t believe otherwise. It was _their_ time now. She was his chance at a real life, she had been for a long time, and he wanted to grab it with both hands and never let go.

“Are _you_ happy?” she asked, locking her arms around his neck. “Right now?”

“Happiest man in Panem.” he smirked.

“Cheesy.” she accused in a low laugh.

“Only when I’m trying to get in your pants, sweetheart.” he snorted.

“As if you need any trick for that…” she teased.

For the first time in forever, Haymitch could honestly say life was _good_.

They all fell into a sort of domesticity over the next few days that was only completed once Katniss _finally_ ventured out of her house and to the woods. Peeta succeeded where all of them had failed, he coaxed her back to life. It was slow progress and she often declined to attend the lively dinners, sometimes Peeta joined her and sometimes she joined him. They were learning how to be with each other properly, without the weight of cameras and the expectant eyes of a nation focused on them.

“They’re falling in love.” Effie hummed one night, a delighted smile on her lips, as she smeared some cream on her hands. She did it every night, she claimed her skin was dry. He loved it. He loved everything about their routine.

It went on for the best part of spring and half of summer.

They were _happy_.

He had stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop but he wasn’t overly surprised when the shoe _did_ drop anyway in the form of Iris packing her bags and belongings and declaring she was moving out – which Haymitch refused to hear about. At long last and to avoid her living alone, Hayden offered her a place in his house – which was even more idiotic given that there were more people there than at Haymitch’s.

“There should only be one woman in every home.” Iris joked before claiming that she was quite resolved, that they were all making a fuss out of nothing, that Effie shouldn’t be upset because she had done nothing wrong, that it was natural for a woman to make herself at home in her own house but that _she_ had troubles feeling at home now with every room being so different. Haymitch supposed he could see her point. She had been running the show in that house since as long as they had moved in but now… Now it was _his and Effie’s_ house and they didn’t always include her in the decisions. He felt bad about that until his mother swat the back of his head with a dishcloth and told him to stop being an idiot. “To be honest, I look forward to some peace and quiet.” she confessed.

And _peace and quiet_ wasn’t something anyone could find at Hayden’s or at Haymitch’s. Kids were always underfoot – and not only _children_ , Peeta and Katniss were always around too. And when it wasn’t kids it was either Hayden and Hazelle having a row or Haymitch and Effie fighting over something stupid, everyone trying to drag Iris in the middle so she could act as a referee…

She didn’t move far. She settled in an empty house down the street, right next to Sae’s, two houses over from theirs. Haymitch grumbled about it but eventually accepted it.

It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter anyway.

And it wasn’t like it changed a lot of things.

They all ate together every night, they were always over at each other’s house – their, Hayden’s, Katniss’, Peeta’s or Iris’ – they all bickered and reconciled regularly… In short they acted like a proper family.

After a few months, they were all so very set in this new life they could almost pretend it was the only one they had ever known.

They rarely if ever mentioned _before_. The Games were left in the past with the special appointments and the years the Abernathy brothers had spent locked in a hateful feud. It intruded sometimes, of course. Haymitch was still haunted by his demons, Effie woke up in the middle of the night from time to time drenched in sweat and only calmed down once she had called Johanna over in Four, Hayden sometimes had this hollow gaze…

But for the most part…

Peace was sweet.

Hayden had his mayor job to keep him busy, Effie opened a clothes shop and hired Hazelle to help out, and Haymitch mostly took care of his geese when he wasn’t keeping an eye on the gaggle of kids always running around.

Peeta and Katniss were mostly independent but Safia was small and clingy and everything he had never thought he wanted.

Posy’s influence on her was disastrous and was destroying her lady’s grooming little by little.

Lately they had taken to riding Homer like a pony.

He never really scolded them about it.

For one the dog didn’t seem to mind and for another…

There were much worse games to play.

** The End  **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... what to say? I'm obviously very emotional to see those two little words closing such a long chapter of my life. It's gonna be an unusually long author note, please bear with me...
> 
> It's been more than two years of Fridays with this story and I can't tell you how grateful I am for every kudo, message and comment you've sent me.
> 
> To those of you who've been there from the beginning, I congratulate your commitment spirit ;) To the others I congratulate the sense of adventure in taking up something so long. Mainly, I want to say thank you to you all and send you my love.
> 
> Invictus became such a special story to me, I can't tell you how much it meant and to see it end really feels like something bigger is ending. There's been a lot of changes for me this year and this one hits me close to the heart. Of course, it's just a fanfiction, nothing really important, but this one really meant a lot to me. I know Hayden wasn't perfectly built as a character but he's mine and I love him and I'm sad we won't ever get to see him or Iris again. I'm also proud to have managed to write this whole story to the very end because there were times I didn't think I could make it. 
> 
> Special thanks need to be given to Akachankami who dutifully betaed this story from beginning to end. We had a number of arguments because of it (mainly because YES I WILL WRITE LONG CHAPTERS GOD DAMMIT ;) ) but I wouldn't have done it with anyone else. She is the best beta and the best friend one could ask for.
> 
> Special thanks also to Allonsysilvertongue who encouraged me to write the story in the first place and promised to be the only one left reading if it came down to that.
> 
> Special thanks finally to 100years-to-live who is always there to cheer me up or wave pompom in the cheerleading stand when it comes to my writing.
> 
> There was so much else I wanted to say but now that we're here, it naturally elludes me... I will end this monstruous author note by saying thank you again from the bottom of my heart, thank you for having followed this story, thank you for having loved my OCs, thank you for the support and the encouragements.
> 
> Some of you, I know, will ask "what next?"... Hopefully not another 100+ chapters but with me you never know XD April Showers will still be updated every Sunday and I'm hoping to have another chaptered hayffie story up on Fridays soon if anyone is interested. I think I will start publishing in two weeks, maybe three depending on my schedule. So, if you liked Invictus and want more angst in your life, check out "Into That Good Night" when it comes out. As for prompts, they will still be updated but I must admit I don't have the same drive and commitment to them I used to so it might be a less regular thing from now on. I think that concludes it on the updates...
> 
> Don't forget to tell me what you thought of this chapter or what your favorite moments were in the whole story! I look forward to hearing your thoughts!
> 
> Goodbye all! Goodbye Hayden! Goodbye Iris! Goodbye Safia!
> 
> With all my love.
> 
> Ellana


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